Hostage Situation
by pamlin
Summary: New yeoman, new cruise, new scientist... What could possibly go wrong? The submarine and her officers and crew are not mine, nor am I related to or associated with the show in any way. I'm just having fun! I hope that you enjoy this tale!
1. Chapter 1

Yeoman Wendy Allbright stood in the doorway and contemplated her superior, rehearsing in her head all the things Admiral Nelson had forgotten to tell her when he'd requested her transfer to the Seaview.

He hadn't told her just how much paperwork there really was. She had worked in the Navy for six years. She knew that every time a ship started her engines, every time a crewman coughed, every time an officer gave an order, paperwork was generated. She could deal with that. What she hadn't counted on was the fact that paperwork doubled – sometimes tripled – on this highly classified, subsidized hybrid that was – like more and more of the Navy's vessels – part Navy, part private sector.

He hadn't told her how much of that paperwork would be scientific reports: lab reports, experiment sheets, collected data, journal articles, etc. She'd known that Seaview was a research vessel, primarily, but she had assumed that the scientists aboard did their own reports. Not so… Admiral Nelson kept tabs on all the research that went on aboard his submarine, and one of the ways he did that was to ask that all scientific paperwork be submitted to her superior to be entered into the Institute's records. It made sense, once it was explained to her – very patiently by one of the senior ratings, a Seaman Kowalski. Naturally, since the admiral was awarding research grants to these people, he would want to make sure that everything they did was scientifically sound and aboveboard.

He hadn't told her that the scientists who sailed with the boat periodically were sometimes… well, creepy was the word that came to mind. Case in point: Dr. Aaron Kelly, who was at least a ten on her internal creepy meter. His eyes were crazy scary, and he was always popping up where she least expected him. They were only a few hours out of port, and she already hoped she wouldn't have to deal with him much… And Kowalski had also warned her that some of the other scientists they'd had aboard had gone crazy, or had turned out to be traitors… A little too much excitement in her book…

He hadn't told her that he wouldn't be along for her first cruise on his boat. Well, actually, that wasn't so bad. Everyone was very nice, and they were really trying to make her comfortable. Chief Sharkey had even taken her aside to give her a few pointers about dealing with her superior. And speaking of her superior…

Admiral Nelson hadn't told her that her superior hadn't expected her, didn't really want her, and would be difficult. Oh, he was perfectly polite, and unfailingly the gentleman; she'd worked with XOs who weren't, and the experience was not fun. Mr. Morton was the kind of man who would always treat her well, but he had been used to doing the mounds of paperwork by himself. Getting him to relinquish his grasp was proving to be… impossible was the word she'd use. He just couldn't seem to give it up. And when she tried to gently disengage him, he would give her a lung-freezing look that she was certain would cow a braver person than she… She'd worked with him for a week now, preparing for this departure, and he still wouldn't give her anything to do. At this rate, she wasn't going to earn the substantial salary that the admiral was paying her…

But the most important thing Admiral Nelson had failed to tell her was that her XO was… well… any word she could think of that would fit was highly impertinent, but damn he was easy on the eyes. Younger than any XO she'd ever worked with, he was a ball of energy, constantly on the move, almost punishingly efficient, and frostily self-disciplined, but there was just no hiding the handsome, classical features with the aquiline nose and deep blue eyes. His ice-blond wavy hair never dreamed of ever being out of place, and he filled out his always-pristine uniform quite nicely. It was probably hideously disrespectful of her to imagine the chest that lurked beneath the perfectly pressed, crisply clean shirt he wore, but she couldn't help herself.

At least until he flashed that smile… Ye gods, that smile would charm the savage beast…

All of which was extremely inappropriate speculation about a man who was her superior and the second highest-ranking officer on the boat… It really was unfair that Admiral Nelson had failed to tell her… But she doubted that the crusty scientist had ever noticed or indeed cared…

And of course, he had also failed to tell her that the captain was tall, dark, handsome, and intensely fiery. Captain Lee Crane was the complete opposite of his frosty XO. Tall and slender, with a commanding air, he was also much more outgoing, sharing his electric smile with everyone. His hazel eyes were keen and warm, and when he was displeased they flashed like lightning. His dark hair was nowhere near as perfect as the XO's fair hair, but the way it swept across his forehead was endearing. His features didn't bear the same classical perfection, but his large eyes, thick lashes, appealing lips, high sculpted cheek bones, and larger than life personality meant he could more than hold his own in any roomful of attractive males… And it was just her luck that together the two of them made up the youngest and most attractive command team she'd ever worked with.

And the litany went on… The admiral also hadn't told her that - despite their differences or because of them; she wasn't sure which – they were good friends and were frequently together. It was hard enough trying to detach Lt. Com. Morton from the paperwork without drooling over him. Trying to do it under the warm amused gaze of Commander Crane was practically impossible…

But right now, the captain was nowhere in sight; the only person she had to deal with was her XO, who frankly looked exhausted. Too many double watches – the first spent in the control room keeping the boat in perfect trim, and the second doing paperwork he should have given her.

It had been a difficult cruise from the beginning, and it was barely twelve hours old. Well, of course, the difficulties had begun with her entry into the XO's office at the Institute, obediently following the admiral, eager to be introduced, and – admittedly – even more eager when she saw him.

But it hadn't started well… At first, Mr. Morton had smiled at her, literally stunning her speechless, but when Admiral Nelson introduced her as the new yeoman, that gaze had turned to ice. He had turned those iceberg eyes on the admiral, who had immediately shooed her out of the room, after which she had sat in the ante-room, smiling bravely at the XO's secretary, while raised voices behind the closed door had made it clear that she was an unpleasant surprise…

Mr. Morton had lost that argument. She had cringed a bit when the admiral had left, winking at her, and her superior had called her into his office, but he had been perfectly polite. Clearly aware that the dust-up wasn't her fault, he had never failed to treat her with respect and charm, throughout this entire hellish week, even supplying her with a young sailor – Kowalski, who had already asked her out to dinner, and proven himself to be a mischievous, fun, and gallant companion - to show her around, and help her to orient herself on the boat. But when she tried to take over the paperwork, he had given her that lung-freezing glare and explained that she couldn't possibly manage it all until she'd familiarized herself with the personnel and the boat. When sailing day had finally arrived, she was so discouraged that she had even contemplated resigning and going back to the Ronald Reagan…

Except that if she did that, her superior might get into hot water, and she really couldn't blame him… Wendy sighed, and wished that she knew how to smooth things over, how to ease herself into this odd little group of men, and make herself indispensable…

Admiral Nelson might have made things a little easier for her, but he had stayed behind to supervise the opening of a new research wing at the Institute, so there was no one to run interference for her on this first cruise as a yeoman aboard a submarine. Fortunately, the crew was wonderful, and even her superior was helpful, as long as she wasn't trying to do his paperwork… But she had already noticed that the researcher on the boat – Dr. Aaron Kelly – was a nutcase, in her professional opinion. His research into deep-sea vents might be vital, but that insane glitter in his eyes unnerved her. And he constantly popped up in unexpected places where he really had no business being…

For example, why did he find it necessary to be at the boat's office at strange hours of the day or night? There wasn't anything to see here. It was a small, enclosed space just aft of the Control Room. The most prominent piece of furniture in it was the XO's desk, and he didn't keep anything important in it as far as she knew. It was almost as if Kelly were scoping the place out, as if he were planning something and needed to know the layout… But there wasn't much of a layout really… The office was a little square box, tucked in aft of the radio shack and the control room, and the only thing in it was a desk and two chairs, and a filing cabinet tucked away into a corner. Why would Kelly care about the layout? He already knew that she and her superior were in here at all hours. Mr. Morton always left the door open when he was with her, as a protection of sorts for both of them. And when they weren't there, anyone could still enter…

The office was always open. Mr. Morton was, in fact, one of the most accessible XOs she'd ever worked with. Not only was the boat's office always open, but his cabin was always open as well. He did have a locked file drawer in the desk in his cabin, and she knew there was a locked drawer in the desk here, probably to keep payroll in.

But anything that Dr. Kelly might need or want? Absolutely not. She might not have minded his unwarranted presence so much, but Dr. Kelly creeped her out…

Wendy shook her head. Right now, she had other more important things to worry about. Like the fact that her XO was concentrating so hard on the paperwork she should be doing that he hadn't even noticed she was there. She stepped into the office and cleared her throat.

He looked up and gave her a tired smile that didn't have the wattage to warm those frozen eyes. Exhaustion lurked in the dark circles under his eyes and the slight droop of his shoulders; he always carried himself ramrod straight and moved with a precise economy of motion. Tonight he didn't even rise from his chair to greet her. What did she do with a man who worked himself to death like that?

"Anything I can help you with, sir?" There was plenty of course, if she could just get him to admit it. She had never worked with such a maddeningly self-sufficient XO.

But he clearly wasn't himself tonight, because instead of giving her an immediate, polite no, he hesitated and leaned back in his chair, contemplating her with a furrowed brow. "We'll need to distribute payroll tomorrow, and I haven't even begun to organize that." The words were slow and reluctant, but the very fact that he'd even mentioned it at all was definitely progress.

"I can work on that, sir." She smiled encouragingly at him; it was important to let him know that she was glad to handle this, and would take on even more if he'd let her. He might be her superior, but she suspected if she handled him like she handled her nephew – who was three – she might be able to coax him to give up some of the reports. "I'll have a schedule ready for your approval first thing in the morning." An expectant pause, then she prompted him again. At this rate she'd have to get a cattle prod to get him to let go of her paperwork. Or she could handcuff him to his chair… which had possibilities that were far too likely to make her blush. She put that thought out of her mind. "Anything else, sir?"

Again, he didn't immediately answer. She gazed at him expectantly; and really, gazing at him definitely wasn't hard. She hoped that in time she'd get used to the strikingly good looks of this command team, and not have to worry that her inappropriate thoughts would show on her face. "I'm here to help, sir."

This time the smile melted the frost in his eyes and made her heart skip a beat or two. "So you keep telling me, Ms. Allbright." But there was no hint of reproof in the words. Instead, he shifted restlessly in his chair, and that powerhouse smile died. She wondered for the first time if this situation was as strange for him as it was for her…

She had come to Seaview from the carrier, USS Ronald Reagan. She had been used to a gigantic ship, and a harried XO still waiting for his own command after sixteen years and five tours of duty as first officer. She had been one of a cadre of ten yeomen. And she had never ever run submerged on a submarine. The Silent Service was still dominated by men. Admiral Nelson was one of a handful of influential people trying to change that. His enthusiasm for Seaview, and his deep respect for his command team had gone a long way toward convincing her to make this change.

But Mr. Morton had served aboard Seaview for five years and had never had a yeoman. He had been solely responsible for his duties as XO, which included a great deal of paperwork. He seemed to do more of it, however, than the average XO; it hadn't taken her long to realize that he had quietly taken on the lab reports that the admiral's research generated, as well as much of the Captain's paperwork – clearly without Captain Crane's realizing it. She hadn't been on board long before she realized that if the captain had known that roughly forty percent of the paperwork that was rightfully his was being done by his XO, he would have taken it back immediately, and probably chewed the junior officer out for it.

But the captain benefitted, of that there was no doubt; he was free to roam the ship and get to know the men. He had more freedom and used it more effectively than any captain she'd ever worked under. She loved the resulting easy camaraderie and esprit-de-corps that prevailed on this boat. Everyone from the captain down to the lowest rating had done their best to ease her anxiety when the boat had dived the first time on this mission. She had been accepted as one of them, and even though she had a cabin to herself, she felt like she fit right in…

But there was a darker side to the captain's extraordinary freedom. His crisply efficient XO, who had handled everything with the precision and skill that was uniformly admired on this boat, had finally bitten off more than he could chew. He stubbornly refused to see it, but the admiral had noticed almost instantly. The paperwork had become crippling. Mr. Morton worked too many hours and drove himself too hard. An exhausted officer made mistakes and on a submarine – even one as advanced as Seaview with as capable a crew – mistakes could be fatal. The admiral had made the decision to bring her in for good reasons.

But the situation still had to feel awkward for her capable, self-sufficient, and self-disciplined XO. Wendy had never considered that before. She took a step toward the desk and used her best persuasive tone. "Is it Dr. Kelly's lab reports keeping you up, sir? I've had experience with lab reports. I can handle those for you, if you like."

It could have gone either way. The look in his eyes was speculative, a little hesitant, but in the end, exhaustion won out. "He's particular, Ms. Allbright. Very exacting."

But she knew the warning meant he was giving in. The tension she hadn't realized had straightened her back and fluttered in her stomach drained away, and she rewarded him with a smile. "No problem, sir. I'm used to exacting."

A flicker of humor lit the blue eyes, though his face remained impassive. "Yes, I can be an ogre." He rose from his chair as she laughed in surprise. A sense of humor; who'd have guessed? "Can you have the payroll schedule ready by eight hundred hours?"

"No problem, sir," she promised and stepped aside to let him pass her. Progress indeed. She made her way around the desk and sank into the chair, eager to get to work at last.

Within two hours, she had a workable payroll schedule. It was a snap really, because she only had 125 men to schedule versus the more than five thousand she'd regularly scheduled on the Ronald Reagan. The process was much faster, which enabled her to dig into the lab reports. She knew the moment she started reading Dr. Kelly's notes that exacting was an understatement. Dr. Kelly was going to be an absolute stickler. She grimaced, then put her distaste away, and started typing.

At six hundred hours, Captain Crane stuck his head in, saw her at work, and gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up. She leaped up and saluted, smiling when he returned the gesture, then went back to the lab report. Frankly, life forms that flourished around deep-sea vents were boring. Weird, but boring. She would be glad to have this report finished.

At seven-thirty hours, just as she typed the last word of Dr. Kelly's report, Mr. Morton swept into the boat's office, precisely dressed, tie neatly buttoned down, and every hair in place. She had never seen an officer who so completely personified perfect order. "Good morning, Ms. Allbright."

"Good morning, sir." She produced her schedule and handed it to him. "Payroll schedule, sir. If it meets with your approval, I can have it posted by eight hundred hours."

He smiled, but she read the surprise in his eyes; clearly he hadn't expected her to be so efficient. He looked over the schedule quickly. Then his eyes narrowed, and he studied it more closely, and looked up at her with dawning respect in his gaze. "Very good work, Ms. Allbright. Go ahead and post it."

She rose, stifling the smile, amazed at how much the praise meant. Oh, she was going to like being the lone yeoman on this boat. Her boss was efficient, fair, and damned good-looking… "Right away, sir." She stepped out into the hallway, and swallowed a screech as Dr. Kelly loomed up before her… "Oh! You startled me, sir!"

He didn't answer; he just smiled that creepy smile. She turned her back on him and walked away, feeling his eyes following her.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days out… Man, oh, man, and here was the pretty little yeoman standing in the office doorway, tapping her foot in frustration. Chief Petty Officer Francis Sharkey, the Chief of the Boat eased up beside her and looked in through the door. Yup. There he was; two days out, and Mr. Morton was still doing more paperwork than the yeoman was. Sharkey glanced at the woman… Allbright, her name was. Her brown eyes met his, and he could almost feel her exasperation tingling in the air. She stepped out into the corridor, her chestnut ponytail swinging. "He's perpetual motion… How on Earth…?"

Sharkey sighed. He knew what she meant; Mr. Morton took some getting used to. For one, that expressionless façade was disconcerting, until you found out what was hiding behind it. His impression of an iceberg was pretty damned good, but there wasn't anybody aboard this boat who didn't know it was just an impression. Well, except maybe for Yeoman Allbright, but she'd tumble to it soon enough. That cool gaze didn't really turn seriously frosty unless someone had done something they weren't supposed to. And nobody here was prone to those kinds of mistakes. "He still fighting you on the paperwork?" The captain wouldn't like that… Hell, the admiral wouldn't like that…

She pursed her lips in a pout. "It's hardly a fight, Chief. He is my superior, after all. If he doesn't want to give me the paperwork, I can't really force him to."

She was right, of course. But the admiral would get all bent out of shape, if Seaview came back to port, with the XO still doing the paperwork, and the little yeoman pretty much twiddling her thumbs. It wasn't what she'd been hired for; the chief knew that she wanted to work, so it followed that it was Mr. Morton's stubborn nature that was holding her back. And since only two people on this boat outranked him - and only one of them was really on the boat at the moment – Ms. Allbright didn't really have much recourse…

Sharkey glanced at the doorway again and steeled his spine. Okay, he really didn't want to do this, but… "I could talk to him for you. If you like." After all, he'd been the one to go to the admiral about it in the first place. And that conversation hadn't exactly been a pleasant one.

_Chief, I can't listen to this. You know this could be construed as mutiny!_

_But, sir, you don't understand!_

_You're absolutely right! I don't understand, and I am not interested in understanding! Mr. Morton is the XO on this boat, and you will pay him the respect that he is due…_

_Sir, please, listen! It's not that we don't respect him, or that we're trying to undermine him! Can't you see what's going on? He's stuck in the office, or his cabin for hours on end. He practically lives on coffee, and Cookie says the last time he ate a decent meal was last year!_

Okay, so that last had been an exaggeration. But the whole crew had noticed the increase in caffeine consumption and the corresponding decrease in appetite. And when someone like Riley, who never really noticed much of anything, came to him and said that Mr. Morton looked like death warmed over, well… That told you something!

_All right, Chief. I'll handle it. Tell the crew to settle down._ But there had been real concern in that gruff voice, and soon after, Sharkey had noticed the admiral watching. Hell, everyone had noticed the admiral watching, except the one guy who was being watched. And he was too busy being buried under the mound of paperwork to notice.

Paperwork… It was the scourge of the Navy, and the reason why every ship and boat generally had a whole cadre of yeomen. Every time someone looked cross-eyed at someone else, a report was generated. But the scourge was tripled on a boat like Seaview, where there were research proposals, lab reports, results of scientific experiments, not to mention censuses of sea life, and even weird life forms that flourished in deep sea vents – which was Dr. Kelly's obsession. The scientific paperwork that Seaview generated was at least equal in volume to the paperwork generated by her Navy connection. And when a certain XO had also quietly taken on as much of the skipper's paperwork as he reasonably – unreasonably, really – could without the skipper noticing, well, what you had was a recipe for disaster. No, the crew hadn't been thinking about mutiny. Hell, they all knew they worked for the best group of officers it had ever been their privilege to serve under. They'd just been worried that exhaustion would eventually take its toll and probably at the most incredibly inopportune moment imaginable.

But the admiral had seen soon enough that there was a problem. And he had taken steps to handle it, just like he'd promised. Only problem was the advent of Yeoman Allbright hadn't eased the situation at all…

There had never been a yeoman on Seaview. There had never needed to be a yeoman on Seaview. At first, the paperwork had been manageable, but as the boat grew into her dual roles, as the Institute began to award more research grants to the best and brightest, as the Navy began to demand more and more reports on just exactly what kinds of things Admiral Nelson was up to - Which naturally got the admiral's goat, and no mistake - Well the paperwork had correspondingly increased, and now there was desperate need of a yeoman on board. Only problem was, everyone from the admiral down to the lowest rating knew that the XO would take it as a black mark against his efficiency, if a yeoman were brought on board. In fact, Sharkey kind of wished he'd been a fly on that wall when the admiral first explained what he planned to do…

Now the XO, he was your basic perfectionist. The crew loved him, because they knew he never demanded more of them than he demanded of himself. Well, the same was true of the skipper, actually, but that was the reason Seaview was a happy boat. Her officers were the cream of the crop. The admiral had hand-picked them all, and the admiral had done a great job. But the XO, he had this ingrained determination to do everything just so, just right, and to perfection. Since everyone on a Navy boat knew that the XO was in charge of the Operations division, including paperwork, their XO – who had never had a yeoman to help – was determined to do everything in the job description, regardless of the fact that it had become too much for one person to do. He hated failing to do the perfect job. Hell, he just hated failing. And since he wouldn't ask for help himself until he was drowning, it was up to Sharkey to watch out for him. Just like it was up to Sharkey to watch out that the admiral didn't shut himself away in that lab of his for hours on end, worrying the crew and failing to eat. Science might be important, but it wasn't worth making yourself sick over. And then there was the skipper. Sharkey had to watch out for him, too, because someone was always gunning for the skipper. He sighed in exasperation. They were the best group of officers he'd ever worked with, but they kept him on his toes. He didn't regret reporting the crew's concerns to the admiral, and he thoroughly approved of the admiral's decision.

Admiral Nelson had started small… The most comparable boat to Seaview – one of Professor Graumann's boats, a huge monster that had been built as direct competition to Seaview – had at least four yeomen to do all the paperwork. But the admiral had decided that it would be best to introduce one and see how she mixed in with the crew, and how she got along with her direct superior, before taking the plunge and hiring another. Hence Yeoman Allbright, who had transferred from the USS Ronald Reagan just before this cruise… Sharkey had taken her aside when she first came to the Institute a little over a week ago and given her some tips on how to handle the XO. He didn't know if she'd found them helpful, but he'd hoped that she would have control of most of the paperwork by now…

And speaking of Yeoman Allbright, she was shaking her head at him now. "I don't think talking to him will work… At least not unless it's the admiral doing the talking." She sighed. "And I have made some progress. He gave me payroll, and Dr. Kelly's reports…"

Sharkey contemplated the bleak look in her eyes and understood exactly how she felt. It wasn't much; just the barest drop in the bucket. But it was a start. "It might take him awhile, you know," he reassured her. She was a nice kid, and the whole crew liked her. He really hoped Mr. Morton wouldn't scare her off. Not that he was ever anything but a gentleman. But he could be very, very stubborn. "He's used to doing it all himself."

She nodded. "I've noticed." Taking a step, she looked in through the doorway again. "He's nice…" She trailed off, and Sharkey noticed the gleam in her eye that made him think she wasn't talking strictly about Mr. Morton's gentlemanly behavior. "But he's stubborn. It's too bad the admiral didn't make this cruise. I think he'd have made sure that I got the lion's share of the paperwork…"

"Probably wouldn't have been a good idea to go that route, though." Sharkey knew she agreed with him, when she didn't protest the comment. Instead she shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a smile.

"Once more unto the breach." Squaring her shoulders, she walked into the office, and a moment later, Sharkey heard her talking to the XO. He hoped that went well… But just in case, he thought maybe he'd better talk to the skipper… Because surely the skipper would know what to do…

He started down the corridor, rounding a corner, and ran smack into Dr. Kelly. The man shoved him away and glared at him, ignoring Sharkey's hasty apology. After a moment, they were able to squeeze by each other, and Sharkey went about his business, muttering to himself. That Kelly was trouble if ever trouble had reared its ugly head on Seaview. He was a creep, and everyone knew it… The chief had been witness to the fuss he'd made over the loading of his equipment. The idiot had wanted it loaded first before the boat's supplies, which wasn't standard operating procedure. Foodstuffs were always loaded first, then vital parts and supplies… And only after all that was on board safely, did the visiting scientist's equipment get loaded. Most of them were clear on that and understood it. But not Kelly… Oh, no. He had to throw a tantrum and get the admiral involved. And the admiral had just told him what the XO had already told him. He'd had to eat his words, but not four hours later he was throwing another tantrum over Pat and Ski searching his baggage. Again the admiral had been summoned, and again the admiral had backed up the XO, and again Kelly had had to eat his words. The man had not been happy about it, either!

But he hadn't learned his lesson. Kelly still sniffed around too many places on the boat where he didn't belong. The Missile Room, the Circuitry Room, the Echo device in the Control Room… Too many restrictions that he ignored. Come to think of it, he hung around the boat's office a lot, too. And what in the heck he wanted there was anybody's guess.

Sharkey's eyes narrowed. What did he want in the boat's office? Did he ever go in there? He had no business being there, but it wasn't off limits like the rest of the places he'd tried to go… What was he up to? Whatever it was, it didn't bode well for this cruise. Sharkey heaved a sigh. This Kelly guy was getting on everyone's nerves. Kowalski had complained more than once that the guy walked by the Circuitry Room at least three times a shift. And Patterson had even said something about Kelly trying to bluff his way into the Reactor Room. The chief knew for a fact that the XO had personally escorted Kelly from the Control Room on at least one occasion because he was too close to Echo and asking too many questions. Only two days out of port, and the guy had already made himself persona non grata all over Seaview. Sharkey would be glad when this cruise was over and that nutcase was off the boat.


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Kelly glared after that chief; the men on this boat were incredibly disrespectful. They questioned what he was doing wherever he chose to go, and generally kept an eye on him. It all traced back to the clash on the docks, when his equipment was being loaded, and he'd told off the iceberg who was supervising the loading. The job was taking too long; the equipment was delicate, and it should have been loaded - with extreme care - before anything else. Instead, Morton had loaded the food stuffs first, then proceeded to other equipment considered _vital to the boat's operation…_ Finally, Kelly had snapped and insisted on Admiral Nelson's being called, only to have Admiral Nelson side with the overly young XO…

Even worse, once his equipment had finally been stowed in the lab, two crewmen had gone through it with the XO watching. Standard operating procedure, they'd said. Again, he'd insisted on Admiral Nelson being called, and again, he had sided with the haughty young officer and not with his researcher. It was uncalled for, strange hands pawing through the boxes of his equipment. It showed a lack of trust that was criminal.

Not the first time the admiral had betrayed him either. He hadn't made it through the first round of interviews for this grant. He'd had to resubmit his proposal, and even then it had been touch and go. His proposal was the best one the Institute had funded in years, but Nelson thought it was dangerous. A little risk was always necessary in order to further the cause of science! Nelson should have understood that.

But the biggest slap in the face was the fact that Nelson wasn't even along for this cruise. He had entrusted everything to his command crew; a stern captain, and the haughty XO, neither of whom understood just how valuable his research was.

It had to have been the XO who had assigned men to watch him and restrict his movements. That chief had chased him out of the Missile Room on more than one occasion, and the last time had earned Kelly a stern admonition from the captain. It should have been the chief who got the dressing down, but no… The captain had seen fit to warn Kelly instead.

And the XO himself had chased Kelly away from Nelson's Echo device, as if it were the most valuable thing on the boat. Crane had checked out his lab on more than one occasion, looking around as if searching for things that didn't belong. And when he left his cabin and casually walked by the Reactor Room or the Circuitry Room, even the sailors rebuked him. What in the hell did having the run of the boat mean, if he couldn't go where he pleased?

But he had been able to get a good look at Echo. And Echo was the whole focus of this cruise. His work with deep-sea vents could wait – must wait - until his reputation was restored, and restoring his reputation meant outwitting Admiral Nelson. He was sure the admiral had blackballed him in the scientific community. He hadn't been able to get any funding for his research, no matter how hard a sell he had tried. All the universities cited unsafe practices in his experiments, just like the admiral had… So he had gone back to the drawing board and drafted a proposal that would meet even the admiral's exacting standards. But when the admiral had then turned around and awarded him the grant for this cruise, he'd attached strings to it that were untenable. All of his arrangements to be checked and double-checked by the captain; all of his dives to be supervised by either the captain or the XO or someone designated by them. All of his research to be gone over with a fine-toothed comb when they reached port again. He couldn't even type his own reports, and all of his notes would be entered into the computer by that XO or his yeoman. Every move he made was to be watched and recorded… Clearly, the admiral meant Kelly to fail; he thought that Kelly couldn't possibly outwit him, but Kelly would show them all what he was made of.

For if the admiral lost Echo… What an embarrassment that would be for Nelson, and for this damned boat. They would all have to eat crow, once he proved he was smarter than their high and mighty admiral. Kelly grinned; once he'd delivered Echo to the highest bidder, his research on deep-sea vents would be in great demand. The man who had outsmarted Admiral Harriman Nelson would become a household name. And he would get his own back from these damned officious officers and men. Once he had Echo, he would destroy Seaview and Nelson…

He peered around the corner at the door of the boat's office. He had scoped the place out several times, startling the yeoman once or twice. She would have to be taken out, he was afraid. And that really was too bad, because she was the nicest person on this boat. At least, she'd always been perfectly polite to him, despite the dubious expression in her eyes. He thought that when push came to shove she would side with the boat's officers, however, and that would put her squarely in his way. A pity really…

He shook that thought away. It didn't matter how nice she was. She worked directly for the XO, and they didn't come any haughtier than him. Unless it were the captain… And both of them would have to learn to dance to his piping. He smiled as he contemplated the scenarios he'd come up with in his head. He had had several plans at first, but as he'd cased the boat, he'd discarded one after the other, until only his best one remained…

The office was the best place to start. It was always open, but both the XO and the yeoman carried keys to the door. One or both of them were generally to be found within the office, especially if the hour was late, but it would suit his purposes better if they were both there. He could use the yeoman for what he needed, then get rid of her, when she was no longer useful. And there wouldn't be a damned thing that the XO or the captain could do about it. He grinned to himself.

He could afford to bide his time, waiting for the best case scenario. For the office was accessible, but more importantly, it could be secured. He could hole up in there indefinitely, close enough to the control room to be sure his demands were being carried out, but with an ace in the hole that would protect him when the time came.

He'd already secured a gun and a pair of handcuffs from the arsenal. That had been easy indeed. His lock picking skills – learned on the street during a violent childhood – had stood him in good stead. That Chief Sharkey had given him a scare, but he had managed to get in and out without being seen. But it was too soon to act. Only two days out to sea. If he wanted to cause maximum damage, he had to be sure the boat were further from its port of call… If he wanted to get away with this, he needed more than two days start… Which meant putting up with these people just a bit longer…


	4. Chapter 4

Commander Lee Crane saw the light in the office as he left the Control Room and stuck his head in, expecting to see his friend and XO working again, when he should have been in his quarters sleeping. Instead, it was the fresh-faced young yeoman, Wendy Allbright, who looked up at him, then hastily stood and saluted. Still very much a Navy yeoman, unused to serving on a boat that was one of the strange new hybrids that Admiral Nelson had talked the Navy into accepting. "Sir," she acknowledged him.

He smiled to put her at ease, glad to see that she finally had something to do. "What are you working on, Ms. Allbright?"

"One of Dr. Kelly's reports, sir." Her face remained unchanged, restlessly eager, but her eyes darkened a bit. Clearly not one of Dr. Kelly's fans… But then Dr. Kelly didn't have many fans on this boat.

But Lee was more interested in something else at the moment. "Chip gave you the lab reports?" The one thing he had never expected Chip Morton to relinquish. The admiral had started giving him the lab reports almost as soon as Seaview sailed the first time, and Chip, cognizant of the importance of them, kept them locked away in a drawer in the desk in his cabin and wouldn't let anyone else work on them. He must have been seriously exhausted to have given them to a yeoman he hadn't wanted and had yet to find much of a use for.

She smiled at the incredulity in his voice, and her smile told him that she was already well-versed in how stubborn Chip could be. Oddly enough, it also betrayed a fond indulgence, as if she understood the reasons for that stubbornness, and was prepared to work around them. "He was tired, sir."

An understatement if Lee had ever heard one. He came in and motioned to her to sit down. "What else has he given you?" Maybe this had gone over better than either he or the admiral thought it would. If she was already doing the lab reports when they were only four days out of Santa Barbara…

But he could tell from her face, that she wasn't doing much more than that. "Payroll."

Payroll… Which only came around every two weeks. And lab reports for a man that Chip – in spite of his always professional demeanor – didn't like anyway… Hell of a start; Lee almost felt sorry for the yeoman. He rose from his chair with a sigh. It appeared that the chief was right. Time to take a hand in this. "I'll talk to him."

She grimaced. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, sir."

"Ms. Allbright, give me your professional opinion." She looked up and flinched when she met his stony gaze. "How much does he need you to do the paperwork?"

Again she grimaced, clearly not wanting to say anything that might get her superior in hot water with his CO. But she couldn't lie; she didn't even know how to try. It was part of what he liked about her. "Badly… There's more paperwork to do on this boat, than I had to do on the Ronald Reagan, sir. Way more paperwork. And with the stipulations Admiral Nelson made about Dr. Kelly's notes and reports… Well, it's a lot of extra work. If he'd give me the lion's share – since after all, I don't have anything else to do – we might be able to handle it between us… But…" She shrugged and looked down at her fingers, still poised on the keyboard, ready to add to the report she was typing.

"But he won't." Of course, he wouldn't. Because he had always been able to handle it before, and was mulishly determined that he could still do it all. Because he was young enough to think that failure was a flaw in himself and too old to give in gracefully to the inevitable.

"I don't want to complain, sir. He's really easy on –" She broke off in confusion, then changed what she'd been about to say. He's really easy to get along with, and he's been very helpful in getting me settled here. I really don't want to make waves…"

Lee nodded. Chip's ability to put new crewmen at ease was only part and parcel of his excellence as an XO. But the paperwork was drowning him, and he had to be made to give it up. "I'll talk to him." He knew Chip wouldn't take it out on this young woman, because he knew that Chip was well aware the fault lay with him, and not with her. He was stubborn and determined to perform all his duties just like he always had. The trouble was Lee needed him to be sharp when he was on watch, or whenever he had to take over, or whenever there was a problem with the boat that needed his expertise, and he absolutely did not need the man to spend all hours working on the reports that were generated every time the boat set sail. He bid Ms. Allbright good night, and walked back through the control room to the spiral stairs in the nose.

As he rounded the corner into Officers' Country, he saw the light under the door of Chip Morton's cabin. Blast it, he was still up. Lee didn't even bother to knock on the door, but turned the knob and went in, startling his XO, who concentrated fiercely on his computer screen, a cup of coffee at his elbow. "So, you've given up sleeping, now?"

Chip settled back in his chair and said drily, "Why don't you come in, Lee?"

Lee noted the sarcasm but didn't rebuke his friend. They were both off duty, and he should be able to approach this question in a non-confrontational manner, friend-to-friend. Clearly, he just needed to take a softer approach. Pulling up a chair, he settled down and tried a smile. "So, how's your yeoman working out?"

Which was the wrong thing to say. Chip assumed that maddening poker face that he shut all his thoughts behind, and his frosty blue gaze met Lee's eyes with stony impassiveness. "You, too? Doesn't anybody around here think I can do my job?"

Okay, he'd had a feeling that was it. Chip prided himself on his precision and efficiency. Everyone had been secretly afraid he would take the advent of the new yeoman as a slap in the face, even though it had not been intended that way. "She's supposed to help you. And you can't tell me you don't need the help."

The façade remained in place; if anything the glare grew icier. "I haven't needed help for five years. Why now?"

"It is not a reflection on you or your abilities." Lee knew his exasperation showed. He wasn't quite as adept at hiding behind a mask as his XO. After four years of working with the man, that was still the one thing that frustrated him most. "It's too much. It's been too much for a while. When the crew starts worrying about you every cruise, then the admiral and I have to take notice."

"The crew?" There was a flicker behind that icy gaze, as if Chip couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "You're telling me the crew complained about me?"

"Of course not!" Lee rose from his chair and started pacing, busily working out how to say what he needed to say. "They don't have a single reason to complain. But they've all noticed that you work double and triple shifts, that you disappear into that damned office or here in your cabin for hours on end, trying to keep up with the mountain of reports." He indicated the computer with an accusing finger. "What are you doing right now?"

The impassive façade remained in place, but Chip lowered his gaze, refusing to meet Lee's eyes. "Duty schedules…"

Lee crossed his arms. "Which Ms. Allbright could handle." He looked down and picked up one of the training jackets that sat squared against a corner of the neatly organized desktop. "She could handle these, too."

"Yes, I'm sure that Ms. Allbright could handle them…" Chip began, but Lee cut him off.

"Good. Then you'll turn them over to her immediately." He didn't leave any room for refusal; not this time. He hated pulling rank on his friend, but sometimes the man was so stubborn, there simply wasn't any other option. "And we'll settle down tomorrow and figure out what else you can give her."

Chip looked up at him then, but his eyes had lost that frosty glare. "You don't pull any punches, do you?"

Lee smiled then, knowing that he'd made a breakthrough. "I'm sure Allbright is very good at paperwork, but she can't command the boat. I'd rather have you seconding me than killing yourself with reports." He sat down again, reassured by the smile his XO offered him.

"They haven't killed me yet." Chip reached for his coffee, but didn't drink it; it was probably cold by now, anyway. Instead, he held it in his hands, staring into the cup, a million miles away. "What do you think of Dr. Kelly?"

That was a loaded question if ever there was one. "He's not the most pleasant character." But that was as far as the captain of this research vessel could go. What he really thought of Kelly had to be kept under wraps; the man had received a research grant from the Institute, and they owed him respect.

Chip, of course, would be looking at a different picture. Where Lee had to consider the success of the mission, Chip's job as XO was to insure the safety of the boat and the men. And he had good reason not to like Kelly. Everyone aboard had heard the ridiculous fuss the man had put up about his equipment being searched. There had been a fracas on the loading docks, too, before his equipment had even been loaded. He should have known better; he should have just stepped back and let Chip and the sailors do their jobs… Lee growled in the back of his throat, not liking the implication of Kelly's disrespect.

Chip nodded, as if he knew exactly what Lee was thinking, but his words told the captain that he was thinking about Kelly's behavior on board, rather than on the docks. "I don't like the way he's been turning up in restricted areas. I know that the COB has chased him out of the missile room on several occasions, and I've had to bar him from the control room, because he keeps snooping around Echo." He set his cup down and rose from his chair, taking a turn around the room restlessly. "Something's off. He should be spending his time preparing his experiments, but he's not…"

Lee waited in silence, trusting his friend's instincts. Clearly, Kelly's odd behavior had set off alarm bells in Chip's mind; and if that were the case, Lee needed to know just what Chip was anticipating.

"I think we'd better increase the number of men on the missile room watch. And it wouldn't hurt to assign someone to Echo. If we lose that…"Chip shook his head and shot a glance at Lee. "I've seen him wandering around our cabins. You'd better make sure you're secure when you turn in."

Lee sighed and rose from him chair. ""Make sure you take care of yourself, too." He hesitated, then headed for the door. "He's been hanging around the office quite a lot, too. I'm wondering why." Their eyes met and locked; Lee read the disquiet in his friend's gaze and sighed. "Okay, double the missile room watch. And put the COB on Echo. Let's make sure we have things cinched up tight, so he can't get a hold of any classified information. And watch yourself when you're in the office. He may just be trying to get as close to Echo as he's allowed, but…" He trailed into silence, trying to find reasons for Kelly's frequent presence outside the boat's office. Giving up at last, he swung the cabin door open, paused and looked back. "And no more reports tonight. That's an order, Mister."

Chip raised his hands in surrender. "Aye, aye, sir."

Lee closed the door and headed for his own bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Dr. Kelly noticed instantly that something had changed. When he went by the Missile Room, there were more men than ever on watch. And they all watched him, as if he were the enemy. He'd been barred from the Control Room, but it didn't stop him from lingering outside the office, looking in. Chief Sharkey now stood near the Echo console, and when he wasn't on duty one of the other chiefs was there, carefully scanning everyone who came near. And he found himself under scrutiny by both the captain and the first officer. The captain ventured into the observation nose whenever Kelly was there, making polite conversation and drinking coffee as if he had no other reason for being there, but Kelly knew that Crane was just keeping an eye on him.

And the XO seemed to be popping up everywhere now, where before he had been pretty much confined to the control room and the boat's office. Now he lingered in the reactor corridor with that frosty glare that made Kelly turn and scurry away. Or he was coming out of the Officers' Wardroom as Kelly was going in, and stepped aside politely to make way, but his eyes followed Kelly's every movement. Or he was in the Missile Room, inspecting the watch, and shooing Kelly out coldly. Five days out, and suddenly the boat was on lock-down, and all eyes were on Kelly. They were treating him like some sort of pariah.

He knew he hadn't given himself away. Oh, sure, he'd explored the boat from bow to stern, but he had been discreet about it. There had been no reason to increase the missile room watch or put a man on Echo. He wasn't even allowed near Echo, anyway.

After some thought, he decided this was the XO's doing, too. For whatever reason, Morton had it in for him. Probably on the Admiral's orders. Of course, that must be it… The admiral didn't trust him, he was well aware of that. And he was certain that the boat had been reporting to the admiral regularly. He had even heard Captain Crane on the horn with the Institute early in the voyage. They had discussed innocuous things like speed and position, but Kelly knew that was only because they knew he was listening. There were probably other reports made when he was nowhere around. They would find a way to keep the admiral in the loop; they would find a way to make sure that all sorts of unpleasant tales were carried…

That was it, of course. And the admiral must have relayed new orders; while the captain drove the boat, the XO carried those orders out. He didn't like Kelly; he must know that Kelly had been right, both times they'd clashed before the cruise even began. Oh, the admiral had sided with him, but they all knew how important Kelly's research was… Deep sea vents were a difficult study; there hadn't been a lot of work done on them. Who knew what other sorts of life forms they would find there. It was a completely undisturbed habitat. Kelly could have been among the first to explore it in detail, if Nelson hadn't blackballed his research. Kelly fumed as he scribbled in his notebook; the notebook that had been a clean slate when he'd first come aboard, the one that now held his plans for Echo and for Seaview. For the admiral's undoing. But the officers and men on Seaview couldn't know that he had abandoned the research for which he had received the grant… There was no way they could possibly know just what his plans really were.

With this new tighter security, however, his time was running out. He would have to go sooner. He had planned on waiting till they were at least ten days out of Santa Barbara, making it almost impossible for Admiral Nelson to get on board and hear his demands in the amount of time he was planning to allot. He needed the upper hand if he were going to be able to pull this off. He would have clout and he would know how to make the admiral pay for being late. He had made contact with a buyer, but he would need to talk to the man again and secure his escape route. Seaview wasn't his worry. Dr. Gamma would take care of the boat, the admiral, and the men.

But Kelly would be earlier to the rendezvous point than he had planned. God, he hated having to come up with contingency plans. Contacting the buyer was not going to be easy, submerged in the Pacific Ocean, and in any case this Dr. Gamma did not like last-minute changes. He would not be a happy man, and Kelly might even have to swallow a reduction in terms…

But maybe… Maybe when he made his move, and secured the boat, he could take his time getting to the rendezvous. Oh, he would give an impossible time limit, and he would exact his price. Yes, once the admiral was aboard, the rest would be easy. And he knew how to get the admiral out here to the boat. He knew how to make the admiral do what he needed. The key was this boat, and the key to the boat was her officers. If he could make the officers do what he wanted, then the boat would be his.

And he knew exactly how to get the officers to do what he wanted them to do…


	6. Chapter 6

Wendy Allbright had definitely made progress. Of that, there could be no doubt. But she had a long way to go. Her XO still had a vise-like grip on the vast majority of the paperwork, and had proved stubborn about letting it go. She knew it was a habit of long standing. While he certainly gave the illusion of uncanny stillness, in reality Mr. Morton was never really still. He was perpetual motion; if she could bottle that restless energy she would make a fortune.

But when he'd covered all bases in the Control Room, frozen any recalcitrant crew members into submission, made the rounds of the boat, checking that everything was in its proper place, and had nothing else to do, he would sweep into the office with a smile for her, settle himself at the desk and start in on the paperwork, as if she weren't even there.

To be fair, she had made strides. They were six days out, now, and he had given her payroll and Dr. Kelly's lab reports. She had accidentally initiated an argument between him and the captain that had resulted in her taking over the training jackets, the duty schedules, and several other duties. But it was better if Captain Crane didn't get involved. Lately, she had begun to get a sense that Mr. Morton was beginning to realize the crippling extent of the paperwork; he was an intelligent – even brilliant – man. He understood that hours spent on reports were hours better used elsewhere…

But he was blindingly efficient, mulishly stubborn, and still considered the reports a part of his job. The last was the real stumbling block; he gave two hundred and ten percent – that willingness to go above and beyond was really an admirable trait – and he never failed to perform his duties to the best of his considerable ability. As long as he considered the paperwork – her paperwork, no matter what he thought – part of his job, he would find it impossible to relinquish it.

That was why Wendy sometimes wished the admiral had been able to come along on this cruise. He would have been able to do what the captain could not. Where Mr. Morton was never anything less than respectful of Captain Crane, their sometimes prickly but always deep friendship afforded him a sort of carte blanche to buck the captain in matters of his duty. He did it quietly, with that killer smile, but he did it. The one person he never argued with or disobeyed was Admiral Nelson. The admiral could have stepped into this cramped little office, told Mr. Morton to give Wendy all the paperwork, and the results would have been immediate and satisfying…

But in the end, it was probably best that she made her own way. She had to work with her XO on a daily basis, and it would be much harder if he resented her because she'd been forced on him. She wouldn't last long if he didn't like her, and she admitted to herself that she really wanted him to like her. It wasn't even because he was outstandingly attractive, though at first that had been all she could think about. Now she had a better handle on his character, and it was of sterling quality.

He definitely had that lung-freezing glare that could skewer any sailor or junior officer who was out of line; she had even seen it work on Dr. Kelly, who had been caught in the Control Room corridor, and had looked a little green when that look was turned on him. But Mr. Morton was also fair, consistent, and exacting, with high standards. Even so, he never asked more of any crewman that he asked of himself, and in fact, he asked more of himself than he would ever ask of anyone else. He had a dry and unorthodox sense of humor that surfaced at interesting and sometimes inopportune moments. While he wore that impassive, unemotional façade, beneath it churned a fiery, mercurial personality completely at odds with the frosty exterior. When he gave orders, the men jumped to obey; they had learned the little tells that told them when he was displeased or satisfied. A simple _well done_ from him meant more to them than a dissertation on their excellence from anyone else. He might be sparing with praise, but when he offered it, it was well deserved and the men knew it.

She'd worked with other XOs who were respected, even admired. She'd seldom worked with one as deserving of that respect and admiration. _The best damned XO in the Navy, _the admiral had told her in her interview, but she had discounted the words as something that every CO said about the man they worked most closely with. Now she knew that it wasn't conventional praise but simple truth.

In addition, he never failed to be polite to her, treating her with gentle respect. She hoped she never gave him cause to be angry with her. She suspected his displeasure would be devastating, not because of anything he said, but because she liked him so well…

He looked up at her, as if suddenly noticing her presence, and smiled. "Up late, aren't you, Ms. Allbright?"

She returned the smile and dared a mild rebuke she wouldn't have tried only a few days ago before she'd gotten to know him and understand him a little better. "You, too, sir." She paused, long enough for him to sit back in his chair and stare at her speculatively.

"I gather you disapprove, Ms. Allbright." But his tone was light; he wasn't upset with her for the rebuke. She took a step across the cramped space to the chair in front of his desk, and sat down when he invited her to, leaning toward him earnestly.

"Sir, I'm here to help you. You work too many hours, and there's no need." She paused when he lifted his brows, but he didn't say anything, so she went on. "I like paperwork, sir, and I'm good at it…"

"You certainly are, Ms. Allbright." His interruption silenced her, and for a moment, she felt queasy, afraid she'd gone too far.

But then he sighed and shook his head. "I know you're capable. You'll have to be patient." He smiled. "I did warn you I could be an ogre."

"Never, sir," she murmured, a little disappointed, but prepared to wait as long as necessary, now that he'd given her an indication that patience would bear fruit. She, rose as the a shadow darkened the office door. Dr. Kelly came in, and shut the door behind him, leaning against it, something she'd learned that neither crew nor visitors were allowed to do when she was present. The regulation was for her protection, as the only female aboard the submarine. Dr. Kelly had generally followed protocol, and she shivered a little at the fact that he'd bucked it now… A sudden tension crackled in the air, like an electrical discharge, a split second before Kelly drew the gun and pointed it at her.

"Lock this door," he snapped, but shock and fear held her frozen for precious seconds. Kelly snarled at her again, "Lock the damned door, girl!" She fumbled for her keys staring down the dark, dangerous barrel of the gun with wide eyes, and moved at last.

She sensed rather than heard Mr. Morton move, as she dug for her keys, feeling that time had slowed down as she stared down the barrel of the gun, but knowing that it hadn't been more than a handful of seconds since Kelly had slammed the door. Mr. Morton had moved fast, but not fast enough. The gun suddenly turned away from her, as Kelly barked out another order. "Don't try it!"

The response must have been satisfactory, because his gaze slid to her again. "Lock the damned door and give me your keys."

She slid close to him, staying out of the gun's crosshairs, and locked the office door, dropping her keys in Dr. Kelly's free hand. As she turned back to the desk, she saw Mr. Morton, still as stone, his hands beneath the lip of his desk. His eyes held that frozen glare, directed at Kelly.

The scientist snapped out another order. "I want your hands where I can see them."

So Mr. Morton slowly, carefully raised his hands, that penetrating icy glare fixed on Kelly. The scientist trembled a little, his complexion too pale, but his cruel smile raised an insane glitter in his eyes. He dropped her keys in his pocket and produced a pair of handcuffs that he tossed at her. Wendy caught them and stared at them blankly.

"Cuff him to the chair." Kelly edged away from the locked door, his gun aimed squarely at Mr. Morton's chest. "No sudden moves, Commander."

Wendy hesitated. It had crossed her mind once or twice that she might have to cuff her superior to get control of the paperwork, but it had been a light-hearted thought, and she had quickly put it and the images that accompanied it out of her head. This… this was too real and terrifying. She bit her lip and glanced at the XO. "Sir…"

"What are you waiting for?" Kelly's snarled words propelled her around the desk but still she hesitated. She had never been this close to her superior; close enough to touch the elegant hands that hovered in the air above the desktop.

He glanced aside at her and said softly. "Do it, Ms. Allbright."

She shook her head, a futile denial. If she didn't do it, Kelly might kill them both. He would almost certainly kill her. But she couldn't make herself move. "But, sir…" The words caught in her throat; she couldn't say anything.

"Wendy." The use of her first name startled her. He never called her anything but Ms. Allbright. She looked into those glacier blue eyes, and saw concern there; the gun was pointed at him, but he was worried about her… She dropped her gaze, when he spoke again. "It's all right. Just do it."

There wasn't really a choice. She understood that. If she didn't do it, Kelly would shoot her, and he would still have her superior as a hostage. She lifted the cuffs, and reached for his hands. It was the work of a moment to twist them behind him, thread the cuffs through the chair's back splat, and secure them. The guilt was something else again, however; she knew that confined as he was now, he couldn't defend either himself or her. Kelly now had the upper hand. He could use her against the XO, and the XO against her. She whispered, "Sorry, sir," and started to step away from him, but Kelly's words stopped her.

"There's a gun in the desk. Get it, remove the clip, and bring it to me." Kelly grinned at her as she looked over at him. "And don't think you can jerk me around, Allbright. I can put a bullet through the commander very easily."

She moved close again and looked at the drawers. His keys dangled from one of them, the one that was partially open; she realized that he had been reaching for the gun, when Kelly had told him not to try it. With an apologetic glance, she slid the drawer completely out and stared at the gun. Lifting it gingerly, she ejected the clip, and returned to Kelly. He took gun and clip from her, tossed them in a corner, then turned his own gun on her again.

"Turn around and get on your knees."

She knew then that she wouldn't survive this. She read it in the malicious gleam of his eyes. Turning slowly, she knelt with an odd sort of detachment, her eyes focused on Mr. Morton, as he, too, realized what was about to happen. He pulled hard against the cuffs and voiced a protest.

"Dr. Kelly, you don't have to do this…"

She shook her head, knowing the words would fall on deaf ears. The cold muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of her head. The calm detachment she felt was a surprise; she had thought she would be terrified when the moment came.

Kelly's voice was amused, full of laughter. "I only need one hostage."

"She's no threat…"

The fury and terror that combined in her superior's voice moved her; he seemed so cold sometimes that she found it hard to believe he actually cared. She'd never held it against him. She was too new, too much an unknown for him to have really warmed to her yet… But he was pleading for her, trying to save her life… She blinked against the tears, wondering what he saw when he locked eyes with her now. Swallowing hard, she started to say the time-honored words, "Sir, it's been an honor…"

She never heard the shot…


	7. Chapter 7

"Kelly!" The roar of protest was drowned out by the shot, deafening in the cramped space. Chip Morton instinctively turned his head away, feeling blood and tissue spatter his skin and soak his uniform. The thump of her body as it hit the floor was the barest whisper of sound after the crack and whine of the bullet. He closed his eyes for a moment, in silent grief for her eagerness, her bright smile, and her innocence. But beneath the sorrow, anger churned, and in moments, he had turned a frozen glare on Aaron Kelly, standing across the small office space, smirking. "You bastard." He didn't really have breath for the words; they fell softly into the stillness, but Kelly heard them. His eyes narrowed and he jerked the gun up again, pointing it squarely at Chip.

"Don't you think you'd better answer them?"

Only then did Chip hear the turmoil that raged outside the locked door. The office was just aft of the Control Room, tucked in behind the radio shack. The crew on watch would almost certainly have heard the shot. Someone was hammering on the door; footsteps pounded in the corridor, and above it all, Lee Crane's voice rose in frustration and concern. "What the hell is going on in there? Mr. Morton!"

Kelly spoke again, insistent. "Answer him!"

"Get this door open!" Lee's voice again. "Chip, damn you, answer me!"

Chip kept his gaze on Kelly, but he couldn't hear the worry in Lee's voice and not answer. "I'm all right, Lee…" It wasn't true. He was only uninjured; he was nowhere near all right.

"Open this door!" Lee roared, anger bubbling up in his voice. "What the hell is happening in there?" He slammed his fists at the door. "Chip, open this door!"

Again Chip had to find an answer. "I can't, sir. I'm… tied up right now."

Kelly laughed scornfully and finally spoke to Lee. "I'm afraid poor Ms. Allbright had an accident."

Chip tugged hard at the handcuffs, wanting nothing more than to strangle the bastard. "He killed her." The words came out on a snarl.

Kelly looked at him with a penetrating gaze. "Yes, that's right. And if you don't do what I ask, Captain, you'll have two funerals to officiate at, instead of only one."

There was silence beyond the door; Chip could almost hear the wheels turning in Lee's head as he digested that statement, and willed him to call Kelly's bluff. Whatever the doctor wanted – most likely Echo – wasn't something they could give. Lee had to know that the mission came first; Chip was expendable, and as long as they were locked in this room, collateral damage was minimized…

He drew his breath in sharply, guilt roiling in his stomach. Wendy Allbright hadn't been collateral damage… She'd had no understanding of Echo. Her only job was paperwork; she'd been young, lively, and talented, and it wasn't her fault that she had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She'd only been aboard because he had been unable to complete his reports; if he'd been more efficient… Hell, if he'd just been faster when he'd gone for the gun…

"What do you want, Kelly?" Lee's voice; damn it, he should know better than to give in to this madman.

"Lee, you cannot listen to this man." He twisted his hands against the cuffs, and glared coldly at the scientist. The skipper was an ONI agent, one of the best if Admiral Parker could be believed, and he absolutely should not bargain with this murderer.

Kelly grinned, as if he could read Chip's thoughts and understood his frustration. "I won't talk to you, Crane. I'll only talk to Admiral Nelson."

"He's not even aboard." Chip bit the words off sharply; the man was a fool if he thought the admiral would put himself into the middle of this. If push came to shove, Lee would never go for that.

"Then get him aboard." But Kelly wasn't talking to his captive. He spoke to Lee through the door, and his voice was stony. "I'll give you three hours."

Lee protested that. "We're six days out of Santa Barbara. There's no way we can have the admiral here in three hours."

But Kelly called that bluff. "You have the flying sub. You think I don't know it flies at supersonic speed? Send someone for him. Three hours, Crane. Think about what happens if you don't meet the headline."

Chip's anger and impatience got the better of him. "Think about what happens if he comes through that door, right now, Kelly."

"You die." Kelly snarled the words, but there was a flicker of fear behind his eyes, and he took an involuntary step back from the look in Chip's eyes.

"So do you." He flung the words back, punching them at Kelly like weapons.

Lee practically howled an order through the door. "Belay that talk, Mr. Morton!" For a moment, there was silence, then the captain said quietly, "We can't possibly guarantee that Admiral Nelson can be here in three hours. You've got to give us more time, Dr. Kelly."

Kelly shook his head. "Three hours. You'd better get busy." His next words were loud enough for Lee to hear, but he spoke them directly to Chip. "You have no idea how much I'd like to put a bullet through you."

Chip lifted his head, his frozen gaze stabbing deep into the other man's eyes. "The feeling's mutual."


	8. Chapter 8

Lee Crane spun away from the locked office door, angrier than he'd ever been. Damn it! They had taken every precaution, doubled the missile room guard, set someone absolutely trustworthy to watch over Echo… They'd thought they'd foreseen everything; how could they have been so damned stupid? "I need eyes on the situation," he said quietly, keeping his emotions in check. He absolutely could not afford to have Kelly overhear his plans.

"I can help with that." Chief Sharkey moved away from Echo, his voice little more than a whisper. "If I go aft, I can get into a vent. Once I'm in the shaft, I can make my way to the office."

Lee shook his head. "He'll hear you."

"No, sir." Sharkey's denial was swift and sure. "I'll be whisper-quiet, and he won't see me either. I can get the layout for you."

Lee looked at him sharply, but Sharkey didn't flinch. His sincerity was clear, and his abilities were well known. Lee nodded at him, and turned away as Sharkey scrambled down the corridor, heading aft. "Riley. Have you soloed in the flying sub yet?"

Riley nodded a split second before he found his voice. "Aye, sir. Last week. Mr. Morton…" He swallowed hard. "Mr. Morton approved me for flight, sir."

"Good." Lee directed the crewman toward the nose. "Prep the flying sub, and go get the admiral. You make sure you give him everything. He needs to understand what kind of a situation he's flying into."

"Aye, sir." Riley hesitated a moment. "He'll come, won't he, sir?"

Lee answered the question with a calmness he didn't feel. "Of course, he will. Just get him here in three hours or less. Preferably less." But he was far from sure that the admiral would come. Harriman Nelson didn't negotiate with people like Kelly. There were very good reasons for that, and Lee understood them all. But surely, this time, with the life of one of his hand-picked men on the line…

He put the thought out of his head and turned back to his crew. "Pat. I want you listening at the door. Tell me anything you overhear."

Pat nodded and positioned himself at the office door. Lee picked up the microphone, double clicked it and said crisply, "Mr. Bishop, to the control room, on the double."

"Mr. Bishop on his way, sir." The answer came quickly and clearly.

Lee double clicked and spoke into the microphone again. "Engine room, all stop."

"Engine room, all stop, aye, sir."

Malone, on watch in the nose, called out, "Flying sub ready to launch, sir."

Lee nodded, and spoke into the microphone again. "Three hours or less, Riley. You're clear to launch."

"Aye, sir." Riley's voice echoed back over the line, followed by the slight jolt that heralded the opening of the bay doors. As if in response, Ned Bishop, the second officer jogged down the spiral stairs.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" Bishop looked at the control room, perplexed. Alfaro was at sonar, where Riley normally sat, and Patterson was in the corridor just aft of the control room. No one was where he expected them to be, and Lee could read the confusion in his eyes.

"Mr. Bishop, you're acting XO." Not the choice Lee wanted to make, given Bishop's history. He was well-known for being a bit hard-nosed and heavy-handed in situations like this, but the man was a solid officer. And until Lee could get eyes on the situation inside that office, he didn't really have any other options.

Bishop's eyes widened. "But, sir, Mr. Morton…"

"Is not able to fulfill his duties. Mr. Bishop, take the conn." He hammered the man with status reports and orders. "We're at all stop. Dr. Kelly has locked himself in the office with Mr. Morton as hostage, and Riley has gone to fetch the admiral in the flying sub. Kelly has already killed once, and it is our job to make sure he does not – does NOT, Mr. Bishop – kill again. Keep us at satisfactory trim, and wait for my mark." He turned away, barely hearing Mr. Bishop's acknowledgement. Patterson was waving at him frantically, maintaining silence, but clearly distressed. He got to the door just as Kelly screamed behind it.

"Shut up! I'm in control here!"

Lee glanced at Pat, then rapped sharply on the door. "What's going on in there? Dr. Kelly?"

"Tell your man to shut up!" Kelly's voice got louder; apparently he was moving closer to the door.

"Ask him what he wants, Lee." Chip's voice came clearly through the door, and Lee could hear the anger beneath it, cold and hard. "Ask him why he killed Ms. Allbright. Ask him what he plans to do next."

"Shut up!" Kelly's scream of frustration caused heads to turn toward the office door. Instinctively Lee's hand closed over the knob, even though he knew it wouldn't turn.

"You cannot make deals with this man. You need to end this now."

Damn it… _Trying to do my job now, Chip? _The mission was his purview, not his XO's. It was Lee's job to decide who was expendable and who was not. But naturally, just at the wrong moment, Chip had to give advice that Lee passionately didn't want to hear. Bad enough that the admiral would probably say the same thing if and when he got here. Lee did not need to hear it now from a man sitting just across a desk from a madman with a gun. From his best friend, who was trying too damned hard to get himself killed.

"I'll end it now!" Kelly cried out, but Lee heard the fear beneath his words; he could imagine that blood-freezing, bone-chilling glare directed at the man, and knew he had to act fast, before Kelly came apart at the seams and did something they'd all regret.

So he borrowed Kelly's words, saying them with a fierce sharpness that would penetrate the anger he could hear simmering in Chip's voice. "Shut up, Mr. Morton. That is an order. You do not speak unless spoken to, do you understand me, Mister?" _Come on, Chip, acknowledge me… _He could understand that the situation would wear on a man who was constantly active; he knew that witnessing Wendy Allbright's death would arouse a strong sense of guilt; he could grasp the cold reasoning that would have assessed this as an impossible situation, and the cool intelligence that was provoking Kelly to take him out of the equation, so that they could take back the boat. He knew that his XO wasn't above sacrificing himself if necessary… He'd seen the man take a bullet for him once, an act that was seared into his memory; it wasn't going to happen again. "Do you understand?" _Answer me, come on, answer me…_

The silence dragged on; Kelly's ragged breathing came clearly through the door, a man on edge, who'd already killed once. Lee held his own breath, waiting, and could almost hear the silent breathlessness of the men around him, all of them waiting as well. They would do whatever Lee told them to do… They were a weapon to use, and not one of them would hesitate to follow his orders. But now wasn't the time for this. He needed to come up with a plan that would work, not blindly follow a lead that would end in losing more lives, lives he absolutely couldn't afford to lose…

When the answer finally came, it was implacable, frozen fire. "I understand. Sir." Lee let his breath out in a shudder, hearing the studied insolence in the tone, and choosing to overlook it. He glanced at Patterson, seeing similar relief in the crewman's eyes. Once he'd given his word, Chip would follow orders. It was as natural to him as breathing.

"Dr. Kelly…" But now he had to talk a madman down from his volcanic fury. And God knew if he could do that… "Dr. Kelly, do you hear me?"

Kelly thumped the door hard. "You just remember who's in control, Captain. You only have two hours and forty minutes now."

Lee didn't really think those words were for him. He could imagine Kelly flinging that kind of bravado at his hostage, trying to assert himself, when he clearly didn't have control of the situation, even though he thought he did. Lee offered some placating words. "I've already sent someone for the admiral. We're doing our best, Dr. Kelly."

"Let's hope your best is good enough."

_Oh, I do…_ But whether he could find a way out of this, where everyone came out alive…


	9. Chapter 9

Sharkey crawled carefully through the shaft, minimizing the noise he made with kneepads and gloves, gliding along toward the office vent. Almost there… He needed to know what the layout was, what kind of gun Kelly was using, whether or not the XO was injured… He had heard Kelly yelling earlier, and figured that Mr. Morton was provoking him; he could imagine that he would do that, to keep Kelly off balance, maybe even to provide them with an opportunity to take the guy out, which would almost certainly mean that he would be killed. Sharkey didn't think the skipper would like that outcome at all. He rounded a corner, and got eyes on the vent grill. Careful now… He couldn't be seen; there was no telling what Kelly would do if he saw Sharkey peering into the room. He eased a little closer. There was Kelly, a foot or two inside the door. The gun was a Glock, with a hair trigger; not good, because Kelly had it aimed where it would do the most damage, squarely at Mr. Morton, who sat behind the desk. That famous glare was in evidence, and it was clearly making Kelly nervous, but Mr. Morton didn't move or speak. His hands appeared to be secured behind his back, possibly with handcuffs. Sharkey couldn't tell, but it was a safe bet he wasn't able to do much of anything but sit there.

Allbright's body lay on the floor between Kelly and the desk. She had been shot in the head, probably at close range, judging from the ruin of her head, and the blood and tissue spatter. It was – as far as Sharkey could tell – her blood on Mr. Morton's face and uniform. For a moment, the COB closed his eyes and thought about what it must have been like to watch her die, to have her blood soaking your uniform and your skin… She'd been a pretty little thing, eager and happy. It took a monster to make her kneel and then coldly put a bullet through her brain. They had all made a mistake by thinking Kelly wasn't exactly that sort of beast.

He worried about the XO, faced with that murder, stained by it. The man didn't know how not to take responsibility for the situation. He would be blaming himself, and while right now, he seemed to be directing his anger at right at Kelly, the chief knew that before many hours were up, he would be wondering what he'd done that had caused the situation or what he hadn't done that might have prevented it. If he ran true to form – and he always did – he would be cutting himself to ribbons emotionally over Allbright's death…

Right now, however, he sat ramrod straight, and looked to be uninjured, but wow… that glare. It was disconcerting, even to the chief, and he wasn't on the receiving end of it.

The captain wasn't going to like this layout. As long as Kelly kept his gun pointed at Mr. Morton, Sharkey – no matter how expert a shot he was – couldn't try to take Kelly down. The hair trigger meant that if Sharkey took the shot, Kelly's gun would go off. So they would need some kind of distraction, something that would make Kelly turn that gun elsewhere. Sharkey thought it was highly unlikely that he would do that. He was a scientist, a smart guy… He wasn't going to make it easy for them.

He'd seen enough; time to report back to the skipper. Sharkey eased quietly away from the vent and crawled back through the shaft to the vent in the aft corridor where he'd gone in. By the time he reached the entry, his knees were aching, despite the kneepads he'd improvised out of a couple of Cookie's napkins folded into squares and secured with strips of cloth. He staggered out of the vent, into the corridor and just walked in circles for a moment, working the kinks out. _Better get used to it, Sharkey…_ He knew he'd be going in there again. He was the best marksman on the boat; if anyone was going to take a shot at Kelly, it damned well better be him, because he wasn't going to screw it up. No way, no how…

He moved forward, still slinking along, as if he had to be quiet. The approach led right by the office door, and he did not want Kelly to hear him returning to give a report.

Crowe came out of the arsenal, and flattened against the wall to let Sharkey pass. His wide eyes, and his hands full of the Sig Sauers that the admiral preferred to any other hand gun in their arsenal told their own tale, and Sharkey stopped briefly to hear it. "The skipper wanted me to arm the men, sir… Is it true...?"

"Do what you're told, sailor." Sharkey growled a little to get the guy moving, and went on toward the control room. Why hadn't they figured that Kelly would pull this kind of stunt? The skipper and Mr. Morton had been so sure that his target would be one of the missiles, or Echo… Neither of them had thought anything of Kelly's frequent and stealthy visits to the office. But, of course, his plan all along had been to take a hostage that would make the skipper sit up and take notice, and get the admiral away from the Institute… It didn't matter what his final target was… He could have whatever he wanted, as long as he held all the cards. And damn it, he'd dealt himself a winner of a hand.

He glanced at his watch; an hour had gone by while he'd been making knee pads, finding gloves, and crawling through the ventilation shafts. Only two hours left for the admiral to get here. Sharkey hoped they wouldn't find out what Kelly would do if the admiral didn't come…

Oh, man, he needed to cut out that kind of thinking. Of course, the admiral would come. He wouldn't want to jeopardize one half of his command team, at least not without first ascertaining what it was Kelly really wanted. Hadn't he said often enough that no man on this boat was expendable? And hadn't they all taken him at his word? Yeah, the admiral would be here, and he would be here in time.

Sharkey paused as he came in sight of the office door. Patterson stood guard outside it, his head cocked, listening for any sound from within. He wore a gun belt, but his gun remained holstered. Pat was a decent shot, but he didn't like guns much; he wore them only when ordered to. Sharkey, on the other hand, practiced as often as he could on the range, improving already stellar skills. He was an expert, and he had nothing against carrying a gun; he wouldn't hesitate at all to take the shot that would put Kelly out of commission. In fact, he would welcome the chance.

He nodded at Pat as he went quietly by into the control room. Mr. Bishop stood on the watch officer's platform, forward of the twin periscopes. The skipper was at the plotting table, working at the map, even though they were at all stop, in a holding pattern, waiting for the admiral's arrival. He looked up as Sharkey came up beside him. "What did you see?"

"Kelly's just inside the door. His gun is a Glock, and he's probably got pretty close to a full clip. It's got a hair trigger." Sharkey paused to watch that sink in; the skipper would know full well what that meant. "He's got it pointed squarely at Mr. Morton, sir."

"Is the XO uninjured?"

Naturally that would be almost the first question, the skipper would ask. Everyone knew they were good friends, though their relationship was at times prickly. They approached everything from completely different angles, and sometimes they clashed, but both of them had risked their lives for each other before, and would probably do so again before their careers were through. Sharkey hastened to put the skipper at ease. "Aye, sir, unhurt for the moment. I think he's been either handcuffed to the chair, or tied to it. Can't move out of the line of fire."

"Can you get a clear shot?"

"No problem, sir." Only two people were in that room; if Sharkey couldn't manage to hit the one he was supposed to, then he'd have to turn in his expert badge and probably commit hari-kari or something. The problem wasn't getting a clear shot. "But if I take it, that gun will go off. I don't think we want that, sir."

The skipper ran a hand through his dark hair, his brow furrowing as he thought. "We have a little bit less than two hours left. I hope to God, Riley can convince the admiral of the seriousness of this situation…"

Which meant the skipper wasn't at all sure the admiral would come. That was a blow; no one knew the admiral better than the skipper. If he wasn't sure what the admiral would do… But no, Sharkey was confident that he was right. "He'll come, sir."

The skipper targeted him with a speculative look. "I hope you're right. You'd better arm yourself, COB. I'm going to need you to go back and keep eyes on what's going on in there."

"Aye, sir." Sharkey headed to the gun cabinet. Pulling it open, he selected a Glock 9 mm, a sweet little piece that he was used to handling, and some metal-piercing bullets, knowing the bullet had to punch through the grill before it impacted its target. Waiting wasn't his style, but he could wait as long as he needed to for a clear shot at Kelly's head that wouldn't cost them their XO.


	10. Chapter 10

Admiral Nelson frowned at the flying sub, bobbing in the water by the dock, as he listened to Riley's breathless tale. Damn it, couldn't they keep the boat on an even keel when he wasn't aboard her? Dr. Kelly had been a risk, yes, but he had thought his command team – the best damned command team in the Navy – could handle it. Apparently not… "Is Mr. Morton all right?" First things first; ascertain how serious the situation was. Did he have an injured man who needed to be brought off? Was the situation stable for now, or was Kelly escalating? Too many questions, and it was unlikely that Riley knew the answers to them all.

"We think so, sir." Riley swallowed hard, clearly nervous under the admiral's harsh tone. Their youngest sailor, but according to Mr. Morton, he was turning out very well. The admiral paced away from him, wondering how the hell the boat had gotten into this mess. "He said he was."

The admiral uttered a curse. Well, of course, Chip Morton would say he was all right. He would know that Lee would take too many risks if he thought he had to extract an injured man from Kelly's clutches. No, the admiral couldn't go by what Chip said. Damn it… "Where did Dr. Kelly get the gun?"

Riley shrugged eloquently. "We don't know, sir. He might have taken it from one of the arms lockers, but we're not sure how he would have gotten a key…" He looked at his watch nervously. "Sir, we don't have much time…"

Three hours… At least one and a half hours to fly here, ten minutes to apprise the admiral of the situation… One and a half back… They wouldn't make it. "What happens if we're late?" Nelson didn't wait for Riley to answer, heading for the flying sub's topside hatch. It went against the grain to negotiate with a man like Kelly, but he wouldn't abandon his men, and especially not one of his most talented officers. If he could find out what Kelly wanted, figure out a way to bring them through this without losing anyone…

_Think it through, Harry. Don't go off half-cocked._

John… Somehow Captain John Phillips always got his two cents worth in, even though he'd been dead for four years. He'd known Nelson better than anyone, and Nelson knew exactly what he would say in any given situation. Don't go off half-cocked… That was John all over, warning Nelson against his tendency to get angry and act without thinking.

Damn Kelly, anyway. He hadn't wanted to approve the man's proposal, but after Kelly had worked so hard, and come up with what really was a good plan to conduct the dangerous research, he had felt that – important as the findings could be – it was imperative to do this. He had attached a good many strings… Maybe that's what had sent Kelly over the deep end. Scientists never liked strings, and Kelly was more highly strung than most… He had been a loose cannon for a long time. Nelson never should have given in and allowed him aboard the sub.

But having done so, surely he should have been able to trust his men to keep Kelly out of trouble. This was supposed to be a routine cruise, and here they were…

He snarled at himself. He couldn't make this his command team's fault. Lee and Chip would have done their best. They'd have taken all the precautions they could. This represented a bit of out-of-the-box thinking by Kelly, and Nelson didn't like it. But he couldn't blame anyone but himself for it. He had known that Kelly was a calculated risk. Clearly he had miscalculated, and now they were in for it.

With a growl, he undogged the topside hatch, and went down the ladder into the flying sub, followed closely by Riley. "What will he do if we're late?" he asked again, more sharply this time, hoping for an answer he could live with, because they were probably going to be late.

Riley shook his head, a bit jittery as he went through the pre-flight checks. "I don't know, sir… I'm afraid… it won't be good…"

The admiral swore under his breath and strapped himself in. "Then get this submarine in the air, Riley. If it won't be good, then we can't afford to be late…" But there was no doubt they wouldn't make the three hour deadline. If they pushed it, they might not be far off… Would a few minutes make a difference to Kelly? That was the question… He glared at Riley, until he realized that the sailor fumbled the switches, under what he surely imagined was disapproval.

_Easy, Harry. It's not his fault…_

No, it wasn't. In fact, Riley had risen to the occasion manfully, getting FS1 here at top speed in an exceptional time. If he could pull that off again, they might not be far off their time.

But would Kelly accept that as a good-faith effort? And if he didn't, what would he do? If Riley was right, the only person in the room with Kelly was Chip, and the XO had told them he was… tied up… Somehow restrained. And if Kelly knew how important his hostage was, he would know how to hurt Nelson, when the admiral was late to their meeting…

Nelson shook his head, swallowing another explosive curse, as Riley took the little yellow sub airborne. No way they would be on time… He began to think that Kelly had known that, that Kelly had planned that… Why? What was Kelly's objective?

Surely Lee would have figured that out by now; he was a trained ONI operative. He would have a dozen different plans for extraction by the time the admiral arrived…

Nelson only hoped there would be someone alive to extract…


	11. Chapter 11

Kelly listened to the bustle he could hear on the other side of the locked door. Since Crane had a given a direct order for silence, his XO had said nothing, but sat ramrod straight in the chair, an icy glare of hatred focused on his captor. Kelly found the steadiness of that frosty gaze both amusing and disconcerting. Amusing because there was no way Morton could act on the anger that lay simmering deep in those frozen blue eyes, but disconcerting because the cold, steely glare stirred butterflies in his stomach and made his fingers tremble. He'd seen tough sailors reduced to quivering jelly by that glare; it was close to doing the same thing to him.

But he was unable to resist the temptation to test that silence; how far could he go, what could he say that would force Morton to break that silence, to disobey that direct order? He sidled closer to the desk. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" Of course they hadn't been expecting it. Their pedestrian little minds could never have conceived of something like this. "I've been around the office often enough. You were really stupid, not to read the signs." He kicked at Allbright's body, and watched for a reaction in that impassive face, but the man was locked down tight. There wasn't even a flicker in those frozen eyes. Oh, how he longed to shatter that mask, and finally see what lay behind it. "I thought she'd scream. Maybe have hysterics. Something. But she didn't put on a show at all, did she?" He studied the spatter that had bathed the desktop, Morton's uniform, and his skin in Allbright's blood and brain tissue. "I didn't need her anyway, except to make sure I had you secured."

But despite the taunts, there was no sound forthcoming; just that penetrating gaze that made Kelly's gorge rise in his throat. If the man got loose from those cuffs…

But he wouldn't. Oh, he'd tested them; every now and again, Kelly saw him twisting his hands against the steel, but he'd made no headway, and after awhile, he'd given up, turning that glare on Kelly as if he could make the man back down with his eyes alone…

Kelly glanced at his watch and sighed as a giggle bubbled up in the back of his throat. "I really thought they'd make the effort to be on time." He clicked his tongue resentfully. "I guess they don't value you as highly as I thought they might." He steadied the gun with both hands and the giggle broke free when Morton's breathing quickened slightly. The commander lifted his chin and his gaze darkened, forcing Kelly back a step. He knew he was about to die, but he wasn't giving an inch, and that icy glare made the bottom of Kelly's stomach drop out…

A soft jolt rumbled briefly through the deck plating, a herald of the flying sub's return. Kelly hesitated, sighting down the barrel of the gun, watching his captive through narrowed eyes. It seemed the admiral had made an effort after all…

Give him a few minutes to get to the door, and then Kelly would explain matters in terms that would be completely understood…

A knock at the door warned of Nelson's presence; the unmistakable bass timbre of his voice was a growl of a displeasure. "I'm here, Kelly."

Morton's gaze slid toward the door, his expression unreadable. Kelly lowered his eyes to his watch and frowned, hiding the burst of laughter that tickled his throat. "Five minutes late, Admiral." He shifted his aim just enough. His father had taught him well; he knew how to use a gun, how to hit a target, and he knew how to make his point. And just maybe, his next move would signal the endgame. "I gave you three hours."

A moment's silence; Kelly knew Nelson well enough to know what he was thinking. The bastard never really believed that anyone could outwit him. He thought his Nobel Prize, and his fistful of degrees made him something special, but he wasn't all that smart. "The time frame was unreasonable. I got here as quickly as I could."

"And you were late." The truth was irrefutable. "Someone has to pay for that, Admiral."

He felt the full force of Morton's glare again, but his back was already against the wall; no possible retreat. He steeled himself with the admonishment that after all, he had the upper hand. He had the gun, and the XO was handcuffed to that chair, defenseless except for those cold eyes. Though he was compelled to admit that the glare alone was a most formidable weapon…

"Kelly, if you want my cooperation…"

Kelly cut across the admiral's angry words. The time had come to make sure everyone understood the stakes. "Oh, I'll have your cooperation, Nelson. But you need to realize that I'm not bluffing." He tapped the hair trigger and felt the gun buck in his hand.

Response to the shot was immediate; the admiral's voice rose to full bellow, beyond the door, echoed by Crane's shout. He could hear the commotion in the hallway outside, knew it was overflowing into the Control Room. The crew had an unnatural loyalty to their officers. He could just imagine what they were saying, and the thought made him smile…

But the smile died as he realized that the one man he'd expected to cry out had made no sound at all. Morton slumped back in his chair, his face white, shifting a little to the right in an attempt to ease the strain on his shoulder. The entry wound was high, just below the collar bone, and it leaked down the sleeve and spread across the chest of his uniform. The fresh blood shown crimson against the darker, dried stains of Allbright's blood spatter. His eyes were closed, but Kelly knew he wasn't unconscious.

"Kelly!"

The admiral's voice finally penetrated. Kelly took two steps toward the desk, his gun still leveled. "You were late. When you don't do what you're told, your man here pays the price."

He could hear the admiral's basso rumble and Crane's softer tenor, but he couldn't tell what they were saying. As he waited for a response, he watched Morton's eyes open and eagerly read the molten pain that glittered in his exhausted gaze. "Not so haughty now, Commander." He sneered the words, but received no response; it surprised him how much he wanted to crack that impassive façade. He lifted his voice. "This is what I want, Nelson. We are going to rendezvous with a ship at latitude negative two degrees six minutes thirty-two seconds, longitude one hundred seventy-seven degrees fifty-three minutes twenty-six point twenty-five seconds. We will reach this rendezvous point in eighteen hours. Do you understand?"

"Do you understand that I cannot proceed until I know how badly injured my XO is?" The steel in Nelson's voice only made Kelly smile. "If you want to make the rendezvous, you have to give me something."

Standard negotiation techniques. Did Nelson think he was stupid? "I'll give you something." Kelly stepped around the desk, closer to his prisoner, reversing the gun in his hand, holding it like a hammer. He saw Morton's eyes widen as he swung the gun with all his strength, crashing the steel butt into the commander's shoulder wound. The brutal blow finally elicited the cry he'd wanted. He swung the gun again, and enjoyed the feel of it hammering into fragile flesh, laughing at the gasping groan of pain Morton couldn't stifle. "Do you want me to give you more, Admiral?"

But it was Crane's voice that answered, and he spoke directly to the XO. "Chip, how bad?"

Morton drew in a shuddering breath, but his voice was remarkably steady. How the hell did he manage it? "It's nothing, Lee. Dr. Kelly just thinks he can prove his point by hitting a man who can't hit back."

The contempt that dripped from that stoic young voice infuriated Kelly; he swung the gun again, this time across that pale, pain-sculpted face, pleased to see the blood leap up under the skin in an ugly spreading bruise. Morton's eyes rolled up into his head as he lost consciousness. Kelly reversed the gun again and jammed the barrel against the commander's temple. "Eighteen hours, Nelson. The time table's tight, so you'd better get moving."


	12. Chapter 12

Sharkey stifled the roar of anger that leaped to his lips when the gun went off. Damn it, damn it, damn it! This was exactly what he'd hoped to prevent… He carefully adjusted his position and peered through the grill. Kelly hadn't shot to kill, but he'd put the bullet where it would hurt. High in the right shoulder, probably nicked the collarbone, and with his hands cuffed behind his back, Mr. Morton had to be feeling that. The cuffs wouldn't allow much freedom; there would be intense strain on his shoulder.

"I'll give you something." Kelly's voice, and Kelly stepped into view, too close. Sharkey lifted his gun, but he couldn't take the shot… If he did, and his bullet went through Kelly, as it was likely to do, it would hit Mr. Morton… Instead, he had to watch as Kelly hit the XO three times, the last time across the face, before he jammed the barrel of the gun against Mr. Morton's temple and made his demand again. "Eighteen hours, Nelson. The time table's tight, so you'd better get moving."

Sharkey gritted his teeth against the anger that bubbled up inside him. It was one thing to hold a man at gunpoint, but to hit a man who couldn't hit back… This Kelly was scum of the earth.

As if Allbright's death hadn't proven that. Worse than scum, worse than an animal. They had seriously misjudged Dr. Aaron Kelly… If he were the kind of man to cold-bloodedly murder a young woman who had done nothing to him, if he could strike a man who was handcuffed to a chair, and couldn't fight back… Hell, if he could shoot a man who couldn't possibly dodge the bullet…. What else was he capable of? And what was his agenda?

And much as Sharkey hated to go, he knew he would have to report to the skipper and the admiral. They had to know how the situation had changed, and he was acting as their eyes. He eased back from the grill, and headed back through the shaft. The trip had gotten faster as he grew more familiar with these vents. Within minutes he was sliding out into the aft corridor, and heading forward, where he found the admiral, the skipper, and Patterson clustered around the office door; their faces were bleak.

Sharkey went up to the admiral and spoke, keeping his voice low. "Sir…"

The admiral glanced at him, then stalked away into the control room. Sharkey and the skipper followed. When the admiral reached the nose, he turned on Sharkey. "What did you see?"

"One wound, high in the right shoulder. Kelly…" Kelly was a first-class bastard, but he couldn't say that in front of the admiral and the skipper. His respect for their rank, and for their character just wouldn't let him. "Kelly likes to play rough." That didn't really get the point across either; but he saw understanding in their eyes. "I think… Mr. Morton appears to be unconscious, sir."

"Well, how in the hell, did this happen?" The admiral was clearly angry; he turned on the skipper with that piercing gaze that made everyone cringe. "You're only six days out, this was supposed to be a routine mission!" He paced restlessly, driven by his anger. "How in God's name did Kelly get in there?" He spun around, eyes narrowed. "Where is Yeoman Allbright. Is she in there, too?"

The silence stretched out for several seconds before Sharkey finally managed an answer. "She's dead, sir." He cursed Riley under his breath for leaving that little tidbit out, but he knew as he did it, that it wasn't fair. Riley had done very well indeed for such a young man under so much pressure. If he'd left something out, he really couldn't be blamed for it. He had been told to get the admiral here as quickly as he could, and he had done that. "Kelly killed her."

That brought the admiral to a stop. He turned on Sharkey, and the look in his eyes could best be described as shock. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, then he turned to look back at the office door. "So… But why in the hell didn't Chip do something? I know he's got a gun in that office! Why didn't he use it?"

That got the skipper's dander up, and no mistake. He turned on the admiral, eyes blazing. "Because he didn't get the chance! For God's sake, Kelly's the villain of this piece! You can't twist it to be Chip's fault!"

Just like the skipper, defending his friend. He would defend his men just as staunchly if they ever needed it. His hazel eyes met and locked with the admiral's; for a moment, Sharkey thought they might come to blows, but at last the admiral stepped back and raised his hands in a placating gesture. "You're right, lad." Unusual for the admiral to admit he was wrong; but then he so seldom was. "Mr. Bishop, have you plotted the course?"

Mr. Bishop looked up from the plotting table, his face pale. "Aye, sir. But we won't make it in eighteen hours. Even traveling at flank…"

"Just get us moving. Buy us time to think. Lee, Francis, come to my quarters."

But Sharkey had other plans. "With all due respect, sir… I'd better get back into the shaft and see what's going on." He saw the blaze in the admiral's eyes, and hastened to explain his position. "I'm your eyes, sir. I need to be there."

The fire in Admiral Nelson's blue eyes died. He studied the COB intently, then nodded. "All right. Get back there. We have to draw Kelly out somehow. Watch carefully. You'll know when the time comes." He turned and stalked up the spiral stairs, followed by the skipper.

Sharkey headed back aft; the admiral would figure something out. He always did… But it would have to be fast, because if they didn't get where they were going in eighteen hours… Well, he really didn't want to think about that…


	13. Chapter 13

Admiral Nelson paced around his desk, ignoring Lee as he thought furiously. It went against the grain to negotiate with a bastard like Kelly, but when lives were at stake, he couldn't just stand by. Riley's appearance at the Institute had been a surprise, but it was nothing to Riley's relaying of events here on Seaview. It had surprised him that Kelly would take such a step. He had made the rounds for years, trying to get funding for his research on deep sea vents. Now that he finally had the funding, why would he go off like this? Okay, yes, he'd had some run-ins with Chip Morton when they were loading his equipment, but Nelson had made it clear that Chip was following procedure, that his actions were absolutely right.

Was this payback? Could Kelly really have been that unbalanced, and Nelson not know it? He had been very upset that his equipment wasn't loaded first, even more upset when his boxes and bags had been searched. He'd gone so far as to call Chip an arrogant son-of-a-bitch in front of Admiral Nelson, but Nelson had immediately put a stop to that, and Chip was a consummate professional, and naturally didn't even turn a hair. He might dislike Kelly, and God knew he had reason, but he would never have been anything but respectful.

But why then? "Tell me what's been going on." He snapped the order at Lee, and got an instant response.

"It's been pretty routine, until about three or four hours ago. Before that, Kelly had been making a nuisance of himself, but nothing that would have suggested this... He was in the missile room, hanging around Echo, even wandering around Officers' Country… But we didn't expect anything like this." Lee's gaze was earnest. "Chip recommended increasing the missile room watch and putting someone on Echo. We did that, and made certain that Kelly didn't get too close to any of the restricted areas. But the office is always open…"

That was going to change now. They had never foreseen trouble, certainly not from the regulars, and it had made sense for Chip to make himself available to the crew. There was always someone who needed something, and Chip was fair-minded. The crew appreciated his willingness to listen, and his ability to resolve situations before they got out of hand. His availability had been a real plus, and they'd never taken advantage of it…

But now, it had backfired on them, and Nelson knew he would have to make changes. "So he was able to just waltz in there. Was Ms. Allbright by herself when he went in?"

Yeoman Wendy Allbright had been his brainchild. When Sharkey had come to him, his first instinct had been to cut the COB off unequivocally. The last thing he wanted or needed was to hear complaints about his senior officers. But Sharkey hadn't been complaining; he'd been genuinely concerned, and he had communicated that concern to the admiral. After watching the situation for several weeks, Nelson had been compelled to admit that the COB – and the crew – had a point. He had quietly set about looking for a yeoman to help with the never-ending paperwork, and had found Wendy Allbright, who came highly recommended; currently serving on the Ronald Reagan, she had been glad of the chance to transfer to Seaview. And he had known that whether Chip liked it or not, he would at least make her feel at ease. He was nothing if not a gentleman. But he had never intended for her to be hurt; all she was supposed to do was ease the burden of paperwork on Chip…

"No, sir. They were both in there."

So that was it. Kelly might be crazy, but he wasn't stupid. He had used Allbright to make Chip behave. The XO would never willingly have done anything to put her in danger… And when Kelly hadn't needed her anymore, he'd killed her. "What does he hope to gain? He wanted to talk to me, but all he said was make the coordinates in eighteen hours… Who is he meeting? And why?"

Those were the important questions. And only Kelly had the answers. One thing was certain. If Bishop were right, and they couldn't make the specified coordinates in time, Kelly would make them pay, and the price was far too high…

"We think he wants Echo."

The admiral turned to look at Lee. Echo… Lee had said he'd been snooping around Echo… And Lee was a trained ONI operative, who would be able to assemble a big picture from tiny little pieces of the puzzle. "You said he was hanging around Echo… What exactly did he do?"

Crane blew his breath out in speculation. "Not much. Chip caught him both times, and banned him from the Control Room after the second time."

Just as he ought to have done. Chip would follow protocol; if anything he would act more quickly than required in the case of Echo, because he understood just how valuable the technology was. He had, after all, worked on it.

Nelson put the thought away, and concentrated on Lee's voice, as the captain went on. "He looked at the console… But he didn't have time to do much of anything else."

Echo was their most valuable tool at the moment; it was a sonar jammer, creating echoes of sound that confused most instruments, making it impossible to get a true fix on the object that carried it. Nelson was even now in negotiations with the Navy to have Echo put on all US submarines. If Kelly got hold of it… He could pretty much name his price. But to sell it, he'd have to know something about it, and then he'd have to get hold of it…

"Lee, did he ask any questions about Echo? Did he know what it was?"

Lee considered the question quietly, and shook his head. "He had an idea that it had something to do with sonar. I don't think he really knew what it did, though." He pondered what little he'd seen, pacing with fierce impatience. "Chip and I pretty much stonewalled any questions he asked. He doesn't have clearance for that kind of information."

Nelson frowned, as a new thought occurred to him. "Maybe he doesn't need to know much about it…"

Lee made the leap a split second after Nelson spoke. "No, of course, he doesn't. Chip worked on it. He knows all the codes…"

"Which suggests that he doesn't really plan to kill him…" No, something was not right about that… Nelson paced again, the only way he knew to keep his anger on a leash and his thoughts spinning along. Kelly had proven that he would go to great lengths to get what he wanted. And this plot appeared to be directed at the admiral. He wouldn't talk to Lee, but insisted on the admiral's presence. If he was after Echo, that was the admiral's invention, his brainchild. If indeed Kelly was planning to sell it to a foreign power, it would be the admiral who was embarrassed… But what did Kelly hope to gain? "We'll need a diversion. Did I hear you say that gun of Kelly's has a hair trigger?"

"Yes, sir." Crane rose from his chair.

"Then we have to get him to point it somewhere else long enough for Sharkey to get a clean shot."

"I've been thinking about that." Lee turned toward the desk, following the admiral's restless pacing. "What if we tried an emergency blow? It might throw him off-balance long enough for the COB to take him out."

Nelson considered the suggestion. The steep list of an emergency blow, the rocking from port to starboard, as the boat went up as fast as she could, the breach… Kelly would have problems, not being used to having to keep his balance, but… "No, lad. What if he taps that trigger at the wrong moment? No, there has to be another way…" But how?

He paced restlessly, his mind whirling like a windmill. "If it's Echo he wants, I can't give it to him…" Echo was too vitally important to national security; he couldn't have given it up for anyone. Not even for Lee… He closed his eyes against that thought, a sense of guilt rising in his throat at the secret relief that it wasn't Lee in this intolerable situation…

_Damn it, Harry, how can you think that at a time like this?_

John's voice in his head; John's thought crossing his mind… He had known John Phillips so well, that it was easy enough to predict what he would be thinking and feeling at this point. _You've known Chip Morton since he was twelve years old… How can you even think about sacrificing him for some stupid machine?_

Nelson winced; of course, John had a point. Machines weren't worth lives, and yet… Echo was invaluable… He sank down in his chair, and bowed his head on his hands, wishing he could shut out John's distress, knowing that it wasn't really John's, but his… A distress he was no longer able to connect with except through John; it was John who had needed a son, after his own had died. Nelson hadn't even considered the depth of his own need until Lee Crane had consented to take John's place. But there had been a time when Chip Morton had been his golden boy, the man he was grooming for great things… When John was still alive, and Seaview was still a maiden. He'd withdrawn so completely that now he needed John's voice to set him right again; he'd allowed John to take his place, and now he couldn't seem to step into it again, and he knew that it showed, that it created a subtle tension that he didn't know how to ease…

But all this pointless reminiscence didn't change the facts; he couldn't – wouldn't – give Echo away. Not for anything… or anyone…

_But maybe there is a way…_

At least to ease the situation; and he didn't need John's prompting to work it out. "I can't give him Echo… But Chip worked on it. Does Kelly know that?" He caught Lee's gaze with his own, as the question fell between them.

Lee slowly shook his head, considering the merits of a suggestion Nelson hadn't even made yet. "No, sir, I doubt it. We pretty much gave him the silent treatment where Echo was concerned…"

So… If they told Kelly that – only the truth – it might serve as protection, when push came to shove, and Nelson had to say no. "You'd better go keep an eye on our situation, Lee… I have some things to think about…"

More to think about than he had ever wanted; how to refuse Echo without losing a man; how to defuse a situation without setting off the ticking time bomb that was Dr. Aaron Kelly… How to do the impossible…


	14. Chapter 14

Sharkey peered through the grill, noting that Kelly had retreated back toward the door. If only he would put his gun down, something that would allow the chief to sight along his barrel and take the shot… But Kelly continued to hold the gun steady and babble. That last bit really annoyed Sharkey; he could only imagine how it would annoy Mr. Morton.

"When we reach the coordinates do you know what I'm going to do?" An insane giggle burst from Kelly's lips. "I won't need you anymore. I'll only need Echo and the admiral."

Sharkey's ears perked at that… That was a good plan; the admiral might trade himself for one of his men, and if he did, that would be bad. No one would dare to do anything that would get the admiral hurt. Not one man on the crew would risk that, no matter what orders they might have...

If in fact, that was what Kelly meant… _I won't need you anymore,_ could have another, far more sinister meaning… One that Sharkey absolutely didn't want to think about.

"Why don't you say something?" Kelly moved closer to the desk again, his lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl. "Do you always just follow orders?"

Sharkey shifted his position quietly. Mr. Morton still appeared to be unconscious. A bruise had spread across his cheekbone where Kelly had hit him, and his eyes were closed. Was Kelly crazy? That was a stupid question… Kelly's behavior since this whole thing had started pretty much proved that he was crazy. But even if he was crackers, it was pretty pointless to be railing at Mr. Morton now… What exactly did he expect an unconscious man to say?

"I know you can hear me." Kelly was leaning across the desk now, almost frothing at the mouth. "Say something!"

Sharkey wanted to say something, but that would give away his position, and he wasn't about to do that; he was the ace in the hole, the one person who stood a chance of taking Kelly out before he killed Mr. Morton. If Kelly would just point the damned gun somewhere else… anywhere else…

Kelly slammed his hand down hard on the desktop, and roared when he got no response from his captive. The crimson stains from the gunshot wound had trickled farther down Mr. Morton's sleeve and spread across his chest, which meant the wound was still bleeding. That wasn't good; too much blood lost could be a death sentence, too.

Kelly jerked his head aside at the sound of a hard rap on the door. The skipper's voice carried through the door clearly. "What's going on in there?" They'd heard Kelly's babbling, too.

A soft moan heralded Mr. Morton's return to consciousness. Kelly fairly leaped around the desk, jamming the gun up against his captive's chest. "Tell him to surface. I need to talk to someone."

The blue eyes fluttered open a split second after the order; Mr. Morton couldn't have heard or understood it, but Kelly hit him anyway when he said nothing. "Tell him! Damn you, tell him to surface now! And tell him I want Echo ready to go when we make the coordinates!"

"I hear you, Dr. Kelly!" The skipper's voice was hard and hot, as if he could see through the door and knew what was going on. "We'll surface, but I have no authority to remove Echo from the Control Room…"

Kelly had quieted now, still too close to his hostage, the gun barrel nestled right up against Mr. Morton's chest. He said silkily, "The admiral can do it, Captain Crane." He fisted one hand and drove it into the bullet wound; the XO stifled a soft cry of pain, but his eyes flared icily. "Tell him I'll kill you if he doesn't." He snarled the words, and drove his fist in again. "Tell him!"

"I think he's figured that out." The words had very little breath behind them, but a good deal of anger and pain. "It doesn't change anything. No matter what you do, he can't give you Echo."

"Do you have a death wish?" Kelly stayed much too close, his voice rising again; the man was insane - that really was the only explanation - and his moods swung dangerously. "Get the admiral! I want to talk to Nelson!"

A long silence, broken only by Kelly's mutterings, the XO's ragged breathing, and the movement of the great boat that carried them. The change was subtle, but Sharkey, listening in the vent, knew that it meant Seaview was heading toward the surface. Then Nelson's deep voice echoed through the door. "We're on the surface. But you'd better forget it, Dr. Kelly. You already hold an ace. Let Echo go."

Sharkey held his breath, wondering what the admiral meant about an ace; he'd seen Mr. Morton stiffen at that, and glance toward the door, clearly shocked at the suggestion. But the chief had no clear idea what it meant, and he just hoped this wouldn't be the breaking point. Kelly was stretched way too tight; he was liable to snap if he didn't get his way.

At first, he thought the scientist had calmed down, as if the denial had somehow made him see reason. He settled back, widening the distance just a hair between himself and his prisoner. But then he went ballistic, clenching one fist around the butt of the gun, and swinging his free hand in a powerful backhand, striking Mr. Morton over and over again, until the man groaned under the onslaught. Sharkey almost came out of the vent, wanting badly to stop the man. He actually put his hand on the grill, when Nelson, worry in his voice, spoke again.

"Kelly! Stop and think!" The words pointed to an uncanny sense of what was happening in the room, locked away from the admiral's eyes. As if he had X-ray vision, which was, of course, preposterous. But the admiral did have a fairly good idea of what kind of man Dr. Kelly was by now, and that probably explained his uncanny intuition. "You'll never have Echo, but right now, you do have one of the men who worked on Echo, one of the original design team! Think, man!"

And Kelly froze, looking down at the XO, a glint of madness in his eyes. "You're lying…" But he drew back slowly, keeping the gun barrel pointed dead center of Mr. Morton's chest.

"Why? Why would I lie about that?" The admiral had a point, but then Sharkey knew he was telling the truth. He watched Kelly with an eagle eye, sensing that he was about to break; maybe he would give the chief the chance he needed.

The scientist eyed his captive with a feral gaze. "Did you? Did you work on Echo?"

Mr. Morton looked up at him then, and the chief saw the bruises, the eye swollen almost completely shut, the split, swollen lip, and the blood trickling from his nose, scarlet against his pale face, and cursed silently. Kelly was a dead man; the chief brought his gun to bear, waiting alertly for the chance.

If Kelly had expected Mr. Morton to answer, he soon found out he was wrong. The XO said nothing at all, adhering to the order of silence that the skipper had given him several hours ago.

"Answer me!" Kelly fairly screamed with rage. "Did you work on Echo?"

"Tell him, Mr. Morton." The admiral's voice, still steady and quiet. Mr. Morton's gaze slid to the door, showing uncharacteristic anxiety. He clearly did not want to tell Dr. Kelly anything.

"Sir…"

But the admiral interrupted him, his voice clear and precise. "Tell him. He needs to know."

Okay, so now Sharkey understood why the admiral was giving away that bit of information. It was a way to protect the XO from Kelly's madness, and Sharkey only hoped it wasn't too little, too late.

Of course, the point was moot, if their stubborn executive officer wouldn't admit it even when Admiral Nelson told him to. Instead, he tried another protest. "Sir, I don't see how this is going to help…"

Once again the admiral interrupted him, and this time there was steel in his voice. "You don't have to see. Tell him the truth."

Kelly glanced toward the door, and his gun swung just a hair out of place. Sharkey tightened his finger just a little. _Come on… Just a little more…_

"You think I don't know that you're lying, Nelson?" Kelly shrieked again, his patience snapping. "Echo was your brain child! Yours alone!"

"But I needed a team to help design it and build it. A team of sonar experts, scientists, and at least one computer expert. Who do you think wrote the code for Echo, Dr. Kelly? You surely didn't think it was me?"

Kelly backed away from the desk, shaking his head against the admiral's voice. As he moved further from the desk, twisting his body toward the door, his gun swung away from the XO for a split second. Sharkey squeezed the trigger instantly, feeling the gun buck in his grasp. The bullet – metal-piercing – seared through the grill and slammed into Kelly's head. His gun discharged harmlessly into the wall, then fell from his nerveless fingers. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Sharkey pushed the grill out and slid to the floor, his legs stiff. A glance at the desk showed him the XO staring at him in open-mouthed surprise. "Just a second, sir. Let me open the door." He staggered to Kelly's body, and searched until he found the key to the office door. Rising quickly, he turned the key in the lock, and pushed the door open, then made his way around the desk to look at that shoulder wound. "You're bleeding pretty badly, sir."

"COB…"

"One minute, sir." He whipped out a handkerchief, draped it across the wound, laid his hand over the handkerchief, and pushed down, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. By then, the admiral had made his way into the room, followed by the skipper. The admiral came right up to the desk, but the skipper knelt to search Kelly's body.

"Are you all right, lad?" The admiral's voice, that basso rumble unmistakable. Mr. Morton looked at him, his breathing ragged, clearly in a state of shock.

"I'm sorry, sir…"

Sharkey bit back a sharp retort to that; what the hell was the man apologizing for?

The admiral leaned across the desk. "Not your fault."

But Mr. Morton shook his head, clearly hanging by a thread, but tenacious all the same. "I lost her… That is my fault."

Officers… Sharkey just rolled his eyes, and squeezed aside to make way for the skipper who had found the handcuff key. "Place the blame where it lies, Chip. You didn't pull the trigger." The skipper's voice sounded a bit harsh, but his face showed what he was thinking. He was far easier to read – always – than Mr. Morton, whose emotionless façade afforded a shield for whatever thoughts spun behind it… Though now that mask was shattered; the XO was clearly in turmoil, but the glimpse his white face and haunted eyes afforded into his soul only served to reinforce the opinion Sharkey had always had of his character.

The skipper's long fingers inserted the key into the handcuffs and turned it. As soon as he was freed, the XO moved to get up, but Sharkey wasn't having that. He frowned at the officer. "No, sir, you need to wait for the doc."

That earned him a pale shadow of the famous glare, but though it didn't have the full-fledged icy power, it was still damned effective. Good thing Sharkey was – mostly – immune. "I'm fine."

Well, there was a blatant lie, if ever there was one. "No, sir. You have a bullet in your shoulder, and Kelly beat the crap out of you." Sharkey never pulled any punches. It was, after all, his job to look after these people, since God knew, they didn't look after themselves very well. It was always the success of the mission, or the safety of the men… Why did they never worry about their own health and safety? He shuddered to think what would happen to this boat, if he wasn't around to keep things ship-shape.

The admiral took a hand in the game now. "Just stay there, lad. We have to get the bodies out first…"

Sharkey twisted a little to look at the admiral's craggy face; it held a good deal of emotion, but what that emotion was, Sharkey couldn't guess. There was anger there, and sorrow, and a little frustration, too. What it all added up to… Well, reading the admiral wasn't an easy thing. The only one who could do it with any kind of success was the skipper. Come to think of it, the skipper was also the only one who could read Mr. Morton with any degree of success…

Mention of bodies brought a sense of tension into the room, the ghost of Wendy Allbright, and Sharkey wasn't sure how to dispel it. No one much cared about Kelly lying dead, but Allbright had been an innocent, and every man here was taking her death hard; they were probably all feeling responsible, too, despite the skipper's insistence on placing the blame squarely on Kelly, where it belonged.

The problem was that if things had stayed the same on this boat… If Sharkey hadn't heard the crew's concerns and taken them to the admiral, then Allbright would never have been hired, and she'd be working on the Ronald Reagan, still alive, still doing paperwork… Instead, Sharkey had listened to the crew, had gone to the admiral, and had been happy to welcome Allbright aboard. Didn't make it his fault, but he realized that he had to bear some of the blame.

He figured the admiral felt the same way. Allbright had been hired by the admiral, and as a direct result of that, she'd been on this cruise – her first – and in this office… And the skipper had been in on the plot, he'd recommended Allbright for the position, on the strength of her references and the excellent first impression she made… They both had to be feeling guilty about it, too.

And then there was the XO, who was the world's champion of taking responsibility for anything and everything. On a good day, that was what made him so effective… But on a day like today, he had to be wondering if he couldn't have been more efficient, worked harder, gotten all the reports finished in time, so that a yeoman hadn't had to be hired, so that Wendy Allbright hadn't met her destiny here in the boat's office on board Seaview…

Sharkey wondered what her last words had been. Low-key, obviously, since Kelly hadn't thought much of her manner of death. Sharkey himself thought it sounded like she'd died bravely. Maybe she hadn't said anything, but if it were him, he'd have said something… Maybe nothing more than _it's been an honor serving under you, sir_, but he was sure he would have said something. Poor little Allbright hadn't had much chance to learn whether it would have been an honor serving on this boat or not… He wondered if she'd had family who waited for her return…

Doc McKenzie entered, stepping over the bodies, and moving around the desk with his doctor's bag. "Let's have a look, COB."

So Sharkey backed out, releasing his pressure on the wound, and let Doc ease in next to Mr. Morton. Doc seemed a bit taken aback by the amount of blood, spattered everywhere; he was a great doctor, but no forensic scientist. "Is all this blood yours?" Sharkey could see the wheels turning; Doc was practically organizing the call for blood before he even got the answer.

"It's Ms. Allbright's." The XO's tone was subdued; he didn't like having a fuss made over him, hence the reason he didn't often land in Sick Bay. He preferred to steer the boat clear of hazards, though he could be astoundingly cool under fire, as this crazy situation had proven.

Doc just nodded, and carefully cut Mr. Morton's shirt from the bullet wound. As he gently pulled the fabric from the skin, the wound oozed blood again. Doc produced some gauze from his bag and dabbed the blood away, examining the wound with precision. "The bullet's lodged. I'll have to have the wardroom, gentlemen."

Sharkey nodded. "I'll get some guys to prep it for you, Doc." He glared at Patterson standing in the doorway, and saw the sailor nod and move away. The officer's wardroom doubled as the operating room when necessary. Despite the many mishaps this boat was prone to, it wasn't often necessary.

Doc pressed a sterile pad against the wound, and taped it in place. "Put your hand here, and apply pressure." His instructions were directed at Mr. Morton, who instinctively followed orders, even though he was just about at the end of his endurance. Anyone could see that.

Doc now turned his attention to the XO's face, taking in the bruising and swelling with narrowed eyes. "This Kelly was a charmer, wasn't he? Doesn't look like he broke any bones, but I'll take a few x-rays to make sure." He glanced back to see if the bodies had been removed and nodded briskly. "Let's get you to the wardroom so I can remove that bullet." He signaled for a stretcher, but that seemed to rouse Mr. Morton, and he shook his head.

"I can make it under my own power, Will."

Doc considered him thoughtfully, then sighed. "Well, if the crew is going to see you bloody, I suppose they might as well see you unbowed." He and the skipper between them managed to get the XO on his feet, and together they moved slowly toward the door.

Sharkey sighed, and followed them, determined to be nearby should they need help after all…


	15. Chapter 15

Lee Crane noted the date and time in the log, along with a brief sentence: _11/9/2013 1100 hours. Yeoman Wendy Allbright and Dr. Aaron Kelly buried at sea. _He stared down at that stark sentence, thinking about the wealth of emotions it concealed. Ms. Allbright had been well-liked by most of the crew; tough though they were, a few of them had even teared up as he led the service. There had been a good many sidelong looks at the XO, standing impassively beside him, right arm in a sling, the bruising on his face still very much in evidence. It was his first appearance, since Will McKenzie had removed the bullet four days ago, and the doctor hadn't been happy about it, but couldn't really find the words to deny Chip whatever closure this service could afford.

Both officers had noticed the whispers that spread among the crew, as they saluted Ms. Allbright's body as it gently slid into the sea. They had glanced at each other, surreptitiously, but both knew that the whispers weren't whispers of discontent, but whispers of concern. The left-handed salute that Chip gave had been noticed… He could hardly salute with his right hand when his arm was in a sling… To a crew that noticed everything, it would have sent some sort of signal.

They had saluted Dr. Kelly's body, too, even though he hadn't deserved it… Protocol demanded it, and they followed protocol. The admiral had snorted at it, but he, too, had saluted, and the men had followed their lead…

As they'd left the deck, the whispers had grown louder, though they hushed abruptly when Chip looked round at the crew. After he'd returned to Sick Bay at the doctor's insistence, Kowalski had sidled up to Lee with a question. "Everything okay, skipper?"

Lee stifled the retort that leaped to his lips. _Okay, sailor? Care to share with me your definition of okay?_ He knew that wasn't really what Kowalski was asking, and rebuking him wouldn't stop someone else from asking the same question later. The crew of any submarine felt it was their right to be aware of everything that might impact the boat's performance. One of the command team sequestered in Sick Bay certainly constituted something that might impact the boat's performance. They weren't being impertinent or disrespectful. They were simply and sincerely concerned. "Dr. McKenzie indicated that if the XO continues to do well, he could be released to restricted duty by the time we reach home, Ski."

"That's good then, sir." Ski returned to his station, and after a moment, the whisper went round the control room. By the time this shift was over, every man on the boat would know.

"Captain Crane, to the admiral's quarters." The admiral's voice came over the intercom.

Lee glanced at Bishop, but the second officer had things well in hand. He picked up the microphone. "On my way, sir." Nodding to Bishop, he went up the spiral stairs and through the corridors to the admiral's quarters. He knocked, and the admiral's gruff voice invited him to enter. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Sit down, Lee." The admiral waited for the captain to be seated, then said soberly, "We have to make some changes."

Lee had known this was coming; he suspected Chip knew it was coming, too. "Aye, sir."

"He's too accessible. That was a good thing, I thought, but…" The admiral rose and paced restlessly. "He can't leave the office or his cabin unlocked at all hours, anymore. The open door policy has to stop."

Lee had been thinking about that, too. There had been good reasons for such a policy – the men had been glad to be able to access the XO when they needed to, and for the most part they had been respectful about it - but now that Kelly had taken advantage of it, it became clear that they had been lucky. Anyone could walk in and pull the same stunt: another mad scientist, a disgruntled crewman… Anyone. Weighing the pros and the cons, Lee had to agree with the admiral. "Aye, sir. I'll talk to him about it."

"Don't just talk about it, Lee. Make it clear that things will change." The admiral turned to consider Lee with a stony gaze. "At the very least there should be a guard at the door when he's in there."

"He'll never go for that, sir." Lee was confident of that; Chip would never agree to reduce any watch by a single man, just so there could be a guard on the office door, whenever he was in there. And as often as he was in there doing paperwork, it would definitely reduce the watches.

"Then the door will have to be locked. No arguments, no excuses."

Lee nodded. "Aye, sir. I'll talk to him." He couldn't really say anything else. He would convey the admiral's concern, and Chip would make his objections and suggestions, and they would hash it out between them. The admiral knew that, of course. This was just worry speaking…

They were silent for a moment, but both of them felt a measure of increased tension crackling in the room; there was another issue that had to be discussed, and this one couldn't be settled as easily as the open door policy.

The admiral raised it first. "There's still the matter of a yeoman."

Yes, there was; but at the moment, Lee was inclined to side with Chip on this issue. And he knew exactly where Chip would stand. "I think we need to leave that alone, sir. No sense in opening those wounds."

"I disagree." The admiral's voice was firm and clear. "Whether we like it or not, the paperwork is still an issue. Ms. Allbright was hired to alleviate the problem. We need someone else to fill that position."

Lee shook his head, trying to find the words to make the admiral understand his feelings. "I'm not sure we need to fill that position right now. Ms. Allbright was well-liked and she will be missed, but she wasn't really very successful at taking control of the paperwork. She tried, but you know how Chip can be. And I guarantee he will not be open to anyone else in that position after this." And that was something the admiral had to realize. They all felt some responsibility for Ms. Allbright's death, but Chip had actually been in the room, had seen her murdered in front of him, had had her blood and brain tissue spattered on him. His sense of guilt would do the rest. He hadn't wanted Ms. Allbright in the first place, but he had been warming to her. He would fight tooth and nail against anyone else coming aboard, and no one could make their displeasure felt like Chip could.

"He'll have to be." The admiral continued pacing, his footsteps loud on the deck plating. "I cannot have crew members coming to me because they're worried about their senior officers. I cannot have my XO drowning under paperwork when I need him to drive this boat. I will post the position as soon as we return to port."

Not a civilian! Lee stood abruptly, astonished at the implication. "You're going to post it? You want a civilian for this job? My God, sir, Ms. Allbright was Navy through and through and she couldn't do the job. What makes you think a civilian can?" Worse yet, to expect Chip to accept a civilian, when a Navy yeoman had already been killed… It just wouldn't fly…

The admiral stopped pacing and met Lee's eyes, a twinkle in his for the first time in four days. "Because I have someone in mind, and believe me, she will chew the two of you up and spit you out."

_She…_ "Sir, I don't think it's a good idea. Maybe if you asked one of the crew to do the job…" Not ideal, but an acceptable compromise. Chip might be less reluctant to have Patterson or Kowalski, or even Malone help him with the paperwork…

"They have other jobs to do!" The admiral barked the words, losing his patience now. He had a point, but in the interest of the comfort of the crew and the XO, he should be listening. It hardly surprised Lee that he wasn't. "I am going to do this, Lee, and you and Chip had better understand that."

He could continue arguing… But Lee knew he wouldn't get anywhere when the admiral was in this mood. "Aye, sir… But you and I both know he won't like it."

"Since when do I worry about what my men would like, Captain? What will make this boat more secure and more efficient is what I worry about."

Lee sighed and sat back down; he had read the little tells: the admiral's shortness of temper, the lines of worry in his face… He knew what this was really about, and he understood. He wouldn't argue any further.

But there was one more thing. The admiral took another turn or two about the room, then settled again in his seat and heaved a richly dramatic sigh. "I have decided that we need an intelligence officer on this boat."

Here it was; they'd spoken of this before, but Lee had always managed to talk the admiral out of it. He didn't want some ONI stooge wandering his boat, someone whose absolute loyalty probably wouldn't belong to Seaview or the admiral. He had serious issues with that, and trying to police this person would probably be Chip's worst nightmare. But he had known, somehow, that this incident would open that argument again. An intelligence officer could reasonably be asked to help the Master-at-Arms with security as well… Several boats had them. Lee didn't want one on his at all. "Admiral…"

But the admiral cut across his words. "Just hear me out, Lee. I know what your reservations are, and I'll concede that you're right in most cases. But suppose it was Katie Frazier I brought onboard?"

Katie… The name hummed in his blood. He liked Katie. She was warm and intelligent, she could be ruthless, but she never left a man behind, and she was undoubtedly loyal to the admiral. More to the point, he had worked with her and couldn't imagine any other agent he'd rather have on the boat. Katie would look after security as well, far better than the Master at Arms, or Chief Sharkey, and far less obtrusively. No one would even notice her working behind the scenes. And the crew to a man would love her. She could easily keep any civilian yeoman in line, if the yeoman were inclined to cause problems. She could also keep every man on this boat in line, and that included the admiral. Katie knew her business, and wasn't afraid to stand up to anyone.

The admiral smiled. "I see by your face that that's another story. I've already spoken to her. She'll be waiting when we dock in Santa Barbara."

Katie… Beautiful, smart, wise-cracking Katie… Maybe an intelligence officer wouldn't be so bad…


End file.
